by Iain Cameron
SEVENTEEN
The house was once a pile of rubble, all that remained of a fine Victorian manor house that was destroyed by fire in the mid 1960s and rumoured to be an insurance scam by the titled family who were asset-rich but cash-poor. Dominic Green bought the site and the land but unfortunately not the title, and after clearing away the rubble, built Langley Manor, now one of the region’s finest country residences with over twenty acres of woodland, parkland, lakes and views over two counties.
On Saturday morning Green’s wife Natalie went out riding with their two daughters, Samantha and Bryony, while Green and his best friend and right-hand man, John Lester often went shooting or fishing. During the pheasant shooting season, he carried a Purdey double-barrelled, twelve-bore shotgun with a beautiful game engraving on the stock and for the first few days, he would carry a big bruise on his right shoulder from the almighty kick it gave when both barrels were fired.
During the deer-hunting season, which for him was almost any time of the year as he hated the greedy little bastards, he used a Blaser R93 with .308 ammunition, which could drop one of them stone dead from two hundred yards away. Before moving to Langley Manor, he had little experience of the damage Bambi’s could do as he lived in the centre of Hove and the only ‘deers’ he ever saw, were the little old ladies with their blue rinses and lumpy legs, heading down to the post office to collect their pensions.
In only their first year of living in Langley Manor, a herd twice broke into the garden and ate all the vegetables and most of the rose bushes, and so whenever he lined up the head of one of the four-legged fiends in the cross-hairs of his precision telescopic sight, it made him feel better to imagine he was shooting one of the actual culprits.
This morning was a different sort of Saturday than he was used to, as there was a visitation from the forces of law and order, more precisely the presence of DI Angus Henderson and DS Carol Walters of Sussex Police. There had been a cold snap over the last few days and so his housekeeper had lit the fire in the small lounge, the room where he liked to sit and read while his daughters were watching their teen programmes on the large plasma television in the other lounge or a DVD in the cinema downstairs, and the place where she put the two detectives while he finished breakfast.
Tall and thin with little excess body fat, Green often skipped meals or ate on the go, but on Saturday’s he liked to sit down for an orderly breakfast which included two boiled eggs with toast, two cups of Earl Grey tea and deep perusal of the Daily Telegraph.
After finishing eating, he left the dirty dishes on the table for his housekeeper to tidy and strolled into the small lounge. It was unusual for him to be dressed in casual clothes on a Saturday morning as he was often in his hunting tweeds, or if doing a bit of planting or inspecting the fences, gardening clothes but for the rest of the week he always wore a traditional three-piece suit.
Henderson was standing in front of the large bookcase and looking at the books, some of which Green had read but the vast majority he hadn’t as their leather covers and gold embossed lettering were only for show. It was unlikely he would be impressed by the DI’s literary tastes but he was by his height and bearing, as he was a tad over six-feet and the copper enjoyed the edge over him.
The copper was also dressed in civvies but while he bought his clothes from a tailor in Mayfair, a place where he had shopped for many years and had an account, the detective’s crew-neck jumper and trousers were obviously from a high street chain store. However, what he lacked in dress sense, he more than made up for it in appearance, as he possessed a strong, handsome face with a prominent chin, indicating to him characteristics of honesty and integrity, no more than he expected for all the money he paid in taxes.
His turned his attention to Sergeant Walters. He had a prodigious appetite for the female form whether it be tall, short, fat or thin but he also knew that by influencing a woman, whether through generosity, flattery or violence it was often the best way to get to their man.
Walters verged a little too much on the chubby side for his tastes but there was a nice pair of black nylon-clad legs peeping out from under a navy skirt. A woman who wore a skirt always enjoyed a head start in his book as he liked to see what they were made of, and not have it hidden behind featureless slacks or the arch-destroyer of female style, denim jeans, tight-fitting or not. The navy cardigan over the white blouse was a bit too mumsy for his tastes and reminded him too much of an elderly aunt he despised that had bad breath and crooked teeth, but it revealed enough to tell him that she had a nice pair of titties.
‘Thank you for seeing us Mr Green,’ Henderson said.
‘Absolutely not a problem Inspector Henderson, today is my day off.’
‘It’s mine too,’ he said sitting down, ‘but work always seems to get in the way. Mr Green, I would like to talk to you about the recent murder of a student at Lewes University. You may have seen the story in the news.’
‘I did. It’s a bloody disgrace if you ask me, some psycho picking on a defenceless girl like her. When you catch whoever did it, make sure you string him up from the nearest gallows.’
He was sure the detective was about to say something about the death penalty or the perils of vengeance but Green nipped in first.
‘I also noticed your name popping up once or twice in the papers, Inspector, watch out, you’re becoming a bit of a celebrity.’ He was only teasing but to his disappointment Henderson didn’t rise to the bait.
‘I’m not sure if you’re aware, Mr Green but the girl that was killed, Sarah Robson was a model on the academic-babes website, a web site I believe, that you part-own.’
He paused ‘Yes, I was aware. Let me tell you Inspector, you don’t get all this,’ he said spreading his arms wide, ‘without taking a close interest in your investments. Even with this girlie site, which is small beer in comparison to some of the shopping centres and apartment blocks I develop, I still like to know what’s going on. So, yes I did know she worked for us and hopefully I can be of some help to you there.’
‘How do you mean sir?’ Walters said her face displaying a mixture of curiosity and apprehension.
‘I mean, Sergeant Walters, that whoever did this awful murder is attacking me and my business, so I want to help you find him.’
‘Hang on a moment sir,’ Henderson said. ‘Whilst we appreciate your offer of help, let me assure you there is no need for your active involvement as we have now over twenty-five officers involved in the case and several promising leads are being followed.’
He held his hand up in a placatory gesture. ‘Fair enough; fair enough. I understand your reluctance to have me treading on your toes and getting in the way of your investigation, so I’ll park my suggestion for the time being but I still intend to make my own enquires.’
‘I’d like to ask you if you know of anyone that might be targeting your girls, as one of the avenues we are exploring is that her involvement in the web site might be one possible explanation as to why she was murdered.’
‘I’m shocked to hear you say that as she was doing nothing wrong. How does taking your clothes off get you killed? I would be interested to hear your reasoning because I can’t think of any.’
He was trying to be provocative as he knew full well the world was full of sickos and weirdos who would kill or maim another human being, just for looking at them across a bar or wearing the wrong football colours, but he didn’t want them hanging their hat on the easiest branch, simply to grab a few headlines or satisfy the guilt of a few left-wing liberals, of which Brighton possessed more than its fair share.
‘I deliberately said it was one of the avenues we are exploring, Mr Green. I didn’t say it was the only one.’
‘I understand but even though I take keen interest in exactly where I put my money, I don’t have anything to do with the day-to-day management of the site. Jon Lehman, Alan Stark and my nephew do that and they would have a better idea if one of our subscribers was taking an unhealthy interest in some o
f the girls.’
‘We have already spoken to Mr Lehman and will speak to Mr Stark shortly. What does your nephew do?’
He explained about his nephew’s role but stopped at giving them the address of the warehouse and wouldn’t do so unless compelled, as the less people that knew about the business, the better.
‘How did it start, this web site?’
‘Alan came to me with the idea and Jon asked some of the students if they were interested and they said yes, they were willing to model. I provided finance and some of the IT people from other parts of my business to build the site.’
It hadn’t been his first foray into the porn market as in the last ten years, there had been investments in strip clubs, luxury men’s clubs with topless hostesses and a VIP lounge, and latterly, lap dancing and pole dancing pubs, but this web site was the easiest bucks he would ever earn. This was to his eternal delight because he imagined web sites like this were ten-a-penny but to the credit of Lehman and Stark, they got the formula right and almost overnight it became a roaring success.
‘I don’t have a problem with you talking to these guys but I would like to make one suggestion.’
‘Which is?’
‘Can I ask you to tread carefully?’
‘We would anyway, but why do you say that?’
‘Well, many of these girls are using the money they make to finance their studies and they wouldn’t appreciate their details being broadcast around the university.’
‘It wouldn’t serve anybody’s interest to fuel the morality crusade the Argus seems to have embarked upon. Enough has been said already.’
‘Do I detect an edge to your voice? Perhaps you don’t approve of what we’re doing. Is it rubbing up against your Calvinist upbringing, perhaps?’
‘I might be Scottish and like a drop of whisky but I hate golf, tartan bunnets and the Scottish Parliament so please don’t try and pigeon-hole me, Mr Green.’
‘It was a cheap jibe Inspector, and for that I apologise.’
‘What I do object to, is the exploitation of vulnerable girls, that you say are only trying to finance their way through college, but are displaying their wares for all to see. This blatant exposure could not only blight their future career if a prospective employer happened to see the pictures but future relationships too, and not to mention harmony at home if their parents ever found out.’
‘Don’t think I don’t appreciate these things as I have two teenage girls of my own but nobody is going to tell me these girls don’t go into this with their eyes open. They are bright, intelligent people, so why wouldn’t they? If they had any scruples about doing it, they would be working in Tesco. It’s an old story, we do it because there is a market for it and they work for us because it pays well. The people that subscribe to this site are ordinary, decent people who appreciate the female form and would no more commit a sexual crime than beat up their kids.’
‘We could talk about this all day,’ Henderson said rising from the chair, ‘but all the recent research does suggest that easy access to porn corrupts young minds and finances criminality, but I think we’ve taken up enough of your time already.’
He couldn’t be bothered getting up so Henderson leaned over and shook his hand and Walters did the same.
‘We’ll see ourselves out Mr Green. Goodbye.’
EIGHTEEN
Henderson turned the key and let himself into his top-floor flat in Vernon Terrace, in the busy Seven Dials district of Brighton. Walking inside, it felt like he hadn’t been there for a while but in fact he was sleeping in his own bed more than usual as Rachel was still in the Royal Sussex and he normally stayed at her place in Hove a couple of nights a week. However, over the last month he had been working so much on the Robson case, all he could do at the end of the day was close the door and tumble into bed.
It wasn’t just the investigation that was eating into his time because as soon as he left Sussex House, he would call into the hospital to see Rachel. She was out of Intensive Care now and transferred to a general ward for recuperation and further treatment. It was a sign that she was making good progress but it gave him a major problem as it meant he was forced to stick to restricted visiting times like everybody else, and he missed the flexibility of IC where he could come and go as he pleased.
Although her memories of the crash were still vague, she was not only starting to feel better, but looking better too, with colour in her face and a healthy shine to her hair. Facially, she suffered a multitude of small cuts and bruises from flying debris and they were healing quickly but her left arm was in plaster and her right leg was supported by a contraption with so many wires and pulleys, that looked as though it belonged on a building site and not a precision piece of medical equipment used by doctors.
Like most people he had ever visited in hospital: witnesses, friends and relatives, they were all desperate to come home and Rachel was no exception. The spectre of her lying bedridden in his flat, unable to go to the toilet or into the kitchen to make a meal without help, raised its ugly head once again the previous day when her mother rang him up, ostensibly to find out how he was doing but covertly trying to do some digging and trying to find out what provisions he was making for looking after their daughter when she was finally discharged.
From day one, her parents made it clear they were happy to take her back to their house in Epsom, but Rachel was equally adamant she did not want to go. She enjoyed a good relationship with her father but couldn’t say the same for her mother as they would bicker and fight at the slightest issue and it had taken years to reach the state of truce where they were at now and she didn’t want to risk damaging it all over again.
With the discharge day looming, he still didn’t know what to do, although he couldn’t take time off while there was a vicious murderer running around or give Chief Inspector Harris the opportunity to parachute his mate into Serious Crimes, but he did know he wouldn’t be able to do a good job if he was also looking after an invalid.
It had been a week since the Lehman interview and the search for Mike Ferris was continuing but as neither of them were completely satisfactory suspects in his mind, and with no new leads to follow, it seemed to him and to many in the team, that the investigation was coming to a grinding halt.
There were those that believed Ferris was their man and all they needed to do was catch him. It was assumed he was in Scarborough, the place he told them where his wife was living now and where they used to live, and so pictures of him were sent to the local force in Yorkshire, and also to Lincoln, the place where he was born and where his mother still lived.
There were others in the team that believed Sarah was killed as a consequence of her involvement in the porn web site and as a first step, he tasked a team with interviewing all the people that might have seen Jon Lehman on the Thursday night when she was killed. He was coming to the conclusion that Lehman was physically and emotionally incapable of carrying out such an act himself, but that didn’t preclude them from speculating that if wasn’t Lehman, then it could have been someone else connected with the web site. Rightly or wrongly, Dominic Green was sitting at the top of that list and nothing he said earlier this morning would change that.
He had been a thorn in the side of Sussex Police for many years, most notably when charged with murder after a building caretaker was killed in a fire, when he refused to leave a derelict hotel that had been recently bought by Green. The case happened several years before he joined Sussex Police but according to those in the know at the time, there was euphoria in John Street, Brighton’s main police station when Green was brought in. Unfortunately, their sense of joy was rapidly transformed to abject despair when he was eventually released after the only witness mysteriously withdrew his statement.
It was believed Green was responsible for a string of beatings, fires and bribery that had dogged the Brighton and Worthing areas for over a decade, done in the course of building his fledgling property development company into one of
the largest companies of its kind in the South-East of England. Building numerous apartment blocks in Crawley, Brighton and Worthing and shopping centres in Eastbourne and Tunbridge Wells, not to mention the clubs, pubs and nursing homes he owned, turned him into a multi-millionaire and now he was regarded by many with shorter memories than his, as a pillar of the community.
Over the same period, he filed a string of harassment complaints against Sussex Police and now every officer was more or less banned from issuing him with a parking fine or a speeding ticket without the approval of the Chief Constable. Henderson sighed, no sooner did a ‘person of interest’ pop their head above the parapet, than he and the team could find five good reasons for shooting them down.
From his limited cooking repertoire of quick meals which included spaghetti Bolognese, spicy meat balls and a passable lasagne, he cooked some pasta and mixed it with a jar of tomato sauce and threw in some basil from a jar that had been lurking at the back of the cupboard for as long as he could remember, but hopefully could still provide some additional flavour.
When the food was ready, he carried the plate into the living room and sat on the settee to eat, while listening to a CD by David Gray, lent to him by Gerry Hobbs in an attempt to ‘broaden his musical horizons.’ It was proving fruitless because his musical tastes were basically unchanged since his youth when he was a member of the road crew for his younger brother Archie’s rock band, Blackheart.
They were competent performers of a repertoire of rock staples including, ‘Smoke on the Water,’ ‘Stairway to Heaven’ and ‘Sweet Home Alabama,’ together with tracks from other major bands of that era such as Marillion, Journey and U2, and played in numerous church halls, small theatres and village halls from their home in Fort William to Aberdeen. He still loved the songs, probably as a result of hearing every one of them a hundred times or more and in some cases he preferred the Blackheart version to the original.
