A Good Death

by Chris Collett

  ‘What has he had?’ her colleague asked, already setting up an intravenous drip. After a brief hesitation Rosalind recited the list of Gideon’s regular drugs. He listened as he inserted the line into Gideon’s forearm.

  Suzy slipped an arm around Rosalind. ‘Let’s go downstairs,’ she said. ‘And let them do their job.’ She guided Rosalind out of the room.

  ‘I must call Father Peter,’ said Rosalind suddenly.

  ‘I’ll do it,’ said Suzy. The priest arrived shortly afterwards, clothes hastily thrown on and his hair standing on end. He was younger than Suzy had first thought and was white-faced. She wondered if it was his first experience of such an emergency.

  Upstairs Mariner stood, watching and waiting, but after five minutes the female paramedic sat back and reluctantly declared Gideon dead. They made Gideon presentable and allowed Rosalind, and the priest, some time alone with him, after which Suzy made tea for everyone. The locum doctor arrived to confirm the death, before hurrying off to another emergency call, and after that, Suzy took Rosalind up to try and get some sleep. Mariner had found a bottle of whisky and offered a glass to Father Peter. The two men sat in the kitchen, in companionable silence.

  ‘It’s such a shock,’ said the priest eventually. ‘Poor Rosalind. Gideon was her life.’ When he had gone, Mariner slept fitfully on the sofa downstairs until the early morning when, on Rosalind’s behalf, he could phone the undertaker and arrange for the mortuary van to come.

  Suzy helped Rosalind to make some phone calls, including one to Kirsten, who arrived just as Mariner and Suzy were leaving. Suzy was heartened to see the two women spontaneously embrace, their animosity put to one side, if only temporarily. After that Mariner and Suzy went back to the cottage to try and take in what had happened. Incongruously the church bells were ringing merrily out for the Sunday service as they made their way along the lane. ‘I can’t believe it,’ said Suzy. ‘I mean, Gideon was unwell, but I don’t think anyone expected this. What a terrible shock for Rosalind.’

  ‘There will need to be a post-mortem, as it’s an unexpected death,’ said Mariner. ‘That won’t be easy either. She’ll need your support. It would be a good idea for us each to make a note of everything that happened last night,’ he went on.

  ‘What do you mean?’ said Suzy.

  ‘Well, I’m sure it won’t come to it, but if there’s anything that doesn’t add up about Gideon’s death, the local police may want to speak to us,’ Mariner said.

  Suzy rounded on him. ‘Really, Tom. Can’t you stop doing your job just for a moment? We’re here as Rosalind’s friends!’

  ‘I know, but—’ He was wasting his breath. Was there something wrong with him, that he automatically took a professional perspective?

  The day passed in a blur. They went up to bed, but Mariner couldn’t sleep and, despite Suzy’s protests, spent an hour writing down his account of what had happened. After that, when Suzy woke, they went for a long walk, during which they hardly spoke, each of them trying to come to terms with what had happened.

  TWENTY-THREE

  ‘You look like crap,’ said Sharp, when she saw Mariner on Monday morning.

  ‘Yeah, well, it wasn’t the most relaxed of weekends.’ Mariner described the events of Saturday night.

  ‘God. Are you all right?’

  ‘I’m fine,’ said Mariner. ‘It’s not as if I even really knew the old boy, or his wife. Suzy’s only known them a short time.’ And there was far too much happening here for Mariner to dwell on it. From Sharp’s office he went straight to the bull pen. Vicky Jesson was on the phone, but waved him across as she ended the call. ‘I’ve done some digging on Kaspa Rani,’ she said. ‘He’s known both to the Met and the Met fraud squad. Incident one was a fire at one of his warehouses, queried as an insurance job, though nothing was proven.’

  ‘And incident two?’

  ‘Aggravated assault on a young woman,’ said Vicky. ‘Again, no charges were brought and curiously there was nothing on file, so I phoned one of the officers at the PPU. They recorded it as an honour-based incident. Kaspa Rani is the victim’s brother and he attacked his sister for consorting with a man from outside their community. Rani didn’t like it, and subjected her to a beating.’

  ‘But she didn’t press charges?’

  ‘No,’ said Vicky. ‘She chose to elope with the man instead. As far as the PPU officer was aware, they are still on the run. Do you think that’s what Talayeh’s death is – an honour killing?’

  ‘Honour?’ Mariner was contemptuous. ‘Violence is violence, killing is killing. Sticking the word “honour” in front doesn’t make them legitimate or justifiable. But it’s basis enough to talk to Kaspa Rani again.’

  ‘We can’t yet,’ said Vicky. ‘That was his PA on the phone. He’s driving up from London as we speak, expected later this morning. I’ve asked her to confirm when he gets here.’

  ‘How’s his alibi looking, for the night of the fire?’ asked Mariner.

  ‘That’s a weird coincidence,’ said Vicky, and she looked across at Bingley. ‘Do you want to tell him?’

  ‘Looks as if he was at the same dinner as Clive Boswell,’ said Bingley.

  ‘Do they know each other?’ asked Mariner.

  ‘No reason to think that they do,’ said Bingley. ‘They’ve each named different individuals to vouch for them, and Clive Boswell’s list is longer. But the hotel offers valet parking, and according to them, Kaspa Rani requested his car just after ten thirty.’

  ‘That kid who witnessed the fire,’ said Mariner. ‘Didn’t he also give a description of the vehicles that came and went?’

  ‘Some of them,’ said Bingley. ‘But he admitted that there were whole chunks of the evening that he missed.’

  ‘Have a look at—’ Mariner began.

  ‘Already on it,’ said Bingley, disappearing for a few minutes behind the monitor. ‘Assorted vehicles, mostly family cars, pizza takeaway delivery, but at about eleven thirty, and I quote: “a massive great big silver thing, flash, like, you know, a Merc or something”.’

  As he was speaking, Jesson’s phone rang. ‘Thanks,’ she said to the caller, then: ‘Out of interest, what car does Mr Rani drive?’ Replacing the receiver, she turned to Mariner. ‘Kaspa Rani’s expected in the next half hour,’ she said. ‘And he drives a silver Lexus saloon.’ Mariner was faced with a dilemma. The weekend search of Danny Carter’s caravan had turned up the personalised number plates belonging to Sam Fleetwood’s car, so implicating him further. And on the back of that he was coming in for further questioning. Ordinarily, Millie would have handled this, but it was her day off. ‘Are you all right to talk to Kaspa Rani?’ he asked Vicky.

  ‘I get right up his nose,’ she smiled. ‘It’s perfect.’

  And at that moment Mariner saw out of the window that Danny Carter had arrived. Clearly they were beginning to rattle a few cages, because he was accompanied by brother George and another man who could only be their solicitor. ‘To clear this up once and for all,’ said George, though for Mariner it was the reaction of a guilty man. He politely asked George to wait outside.

  Mariner began the interview with the photograph of Sam Fleetwood. ‘Do you know this man?’

  ‘No, why?’ Danny was immediately on his guard.

  ‘Really?’ said Mariner, feigning surprise. ‘He’s Sam Fleetwood, the man who’s been giving your dad a hard time over possible illegal practices on your site. And now Mr Fleetwood has gone missing, and his car has miraculously appeared in your yard, with bloodstains in the boot, and the personalised plates were found in your caravan. Can you explain any of that?’

  ‘I told you. I found it,’ Danny insisted.

  ‘Quite a coincidence though, isn’t it?’ Mariner observed. ‘Have you ever been anywhere near Meadow Hall Rise?’

  ‘Where’s that?’ Danny lifted his head from where he was still studying the photograph.

  ‘It’s where Sam Fleetwood’s moving into with his new wife,’ said Mariner
. ‘Did you ever follow Sam Fleetwood, when he left your site? We’ll find out eventually, because you’ll show up on Gatso cameras in the area, so it’s probably best to come clean.’ It would take hours of going through footage, and wasn’t really worth the effort, but Carter didn’t know that.

  ‘I might have gone after him once,’ Danny admitted finally.

  ‘Why? What were you going to do?’

  ‘I was trying to put the wind up him.’

  ‘Is that all?’ said Mariner. ‘Are you sure you didn’t want to do more than that? What were you doing on Saturday night, the week before last?’

  ‘I got a lift in to the snooker hall down Redditch, with Kyle and Jordan.’

  ‘Is that Jordan Wright?’ asked Mariner.

  ‘Yeah. We played a couple of frames, then went to the pub and sank a few pints then I went for a kebab.’

  ‘What time was this?’

  ‘I dunno, about half eleven.’

  ‘And how did you get home?’

  ‘Kyle dropped me off and then I walked the rest.’ Carter’s solicitor leaned across and said something. ‘That’s when I saw that car on fire – when I was letting myself into the van.’

  ‘That was lucky, wasn’t it?’ said Mariner. ‘That you just happened to see it.’

  ‘Yeah, it was,’ said Carter, his self-satisfied smile indicating that the sarcasm had gone over his head.

  ‘Are you sure about that?’ asked Mariner. ‘Are you sure you weren’t spying on Sam Fleetwood’s house on Meadow Hall Rise that night? Perhaps you went to confront him about what had happened to your dad. Things got out of hand and you killed him, stuffed him in the boot of his car and drove it out here, where you set fire to it. Then, early the next morning, you came and winched it on to a low loader and brought it back to the compound, where you disposed of the body.’

  ‘No, I never!’ Danny protested.

  ‘Maybe you didn’t decide yourself to do it, Danny. Maybe someone put you up to it. Do you know this man, Clive Boswell?’ Mariner slid a photograph across the table. It was one Bingley had printed off from Facebook, taken at Charlie’s house a couple of weeks before. ‘Or how about this one?’ He added the photograph from Mike Figgis’ personnel file.

  There was a flicker of recognition at Boswell’s picture, but Carter’s lawyer chose that moment to lean in and whisper something to him. ‘No comment,’ Carter said, and sat back, his arms folded.

  ‘And that was that,’ Mariner told Bingley afterwards. ‘Danny Carter’s involvement would nicely explain how Sam Fleetwood’s wallet turned up in Redditch. But if he’s telling the truth then it confirms alibis for both him and Jordan Wright for that Saturday night, which clears them of any involvement in the fire too.’

  ‘And if he’s not?’ said Bingley.

  ‘Then they could both be in two different kinds of shit,’ said Mariner.

  ‘For the record, I haven’t found anything yet on Clive Boswell’s call history to show that he has direct links with the Carters,’ Bingley said. ‘But I haven’t started on his company accounts yet.’

  ‘That will keep you busy for a bit, won’t it?’ said Mariner.

  When Jesson got to Rani’s cash and carry, there was no sign of the silver Lexus, so she sat and waited on the forecourt, taking the opportunity to check through her phone messages. A tap on the car window made her jump, and she wound it down to show the security guard her warrant card. ‘I’m waiting for Mr Rani,’ she said.

  The guard, a young Asian man, seemed satisfied with that. ‘Are you here about that girl; the one who died?’ he asked.

  ‘That’s right,’ said Jesson.

  He shook his head in disbelief. ‘I can’t get my head round it,’ he said. ‘She was only here a couple of hours before, alive and kicking. I mean literally kicking.’

  ‘You were working that Saturday night?’ said Jesson, getting out of the car.

  ‘Yeah, I was down on the shop floor, doing the rounds, when she showed up. A minicab dropped her off. She’d been drinking; I could smell it on her and she looked rough; there was this rip in her dress.’ He gestured across his chest. ‘She was going on in some other language, but all I could get was “Mr Rani; talk to Mr Rani.” It was mental. Then she kept saying sorry, but I didn’t know what for.’

  ‘What time was this?’ Jesson asked.

  ‘Must have been ten-ish,’ the guard told her. ‘I’d been on shift a couple of hours. I didn’t know what to do with her. I took her up to the office and made her some coffee, then I tried to get hold of Mr Rani. He wasn’t very happy. I had to get him out of some do he was at. As soon as he walked in, she was all over him.’

  ‘How did Mr Rani seem?’ asked Jesson.

  ‘He was pretty mad, I could see that. He took her into his office, to calm her down, I suppose.’ He looked awkward. ‘I know I shouldn’t have, but I stood outside the door for a bit, listening. I could hear her wailing, though I couldn’t really get what she was saying. Then all of a sudden it went dead quiet. It was spooky.’

  ‘Did you see Talayeh leave?’

  ‘No. I had to get back on my rounds, or I’d get the sack. Mr Rani likes things done properly. By the time I got back here to the forecourt, Mr Rani’s car had gone and there was no sign of him or the girl.’

  ‘Did you know anything about Mr Rani’s relationship with Talayeh?’ Jesson asked.

  ‘Was she the girl who turned him down? Everybody knows, but we don’t talk about it. For weeks he was making this thing about how he was getting married soon. There would be this big wedding and we were all invited.’

  ‘How did you find out that it was off?’

  ‘He told Mira in the office that he’d changed his mind, but it soon got round what had really happened. That was so bad.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Jesson. ‘That’s been helpful.’ The guard went off on his patrol, and she had to wait a further twenty minutes before Kaspa Rani arrived. From his demeanour, Jesson gathered that he had been warned. She approached the instant he got out of his car. ‘Good morning, Mr Rani,’ she said. ‘I wonder if I could have a look at your satnav?’

  For a second he was puzzled, but, working it out, he capitulated. ‘You don’t have to,’ he said. ‘You will see that I went to Wellington Road on the night of the fire.’

  ‘So why did you lie about the last time you saw Talayeh?’ asked Jesson.

  ‘Because I knew how it would look,’ said Rani. ‘And it was of little consequence. I delivered her back to her cousin’s house. You know that. It was where she was found. So clearly her death had nothing to do with me.’

  ‘Except that we don’t know what condition she was in when you took her back,’ said Jesson. ‘A witness reports hearing raised voices, followed by an abrupt silence. We know that Talayeh sustained a head injury sometime that day. Unfortunately, the condition of her body after the fire makes it impossible to ascertain whether it occurred before or after her death. It could have even been the cause. We also know that Talayeh had been drinking. She wasn’t used to alcohol, so it wouldn’t have taken much to knock her out completely, so that she wouldn’t stir, even if the house was on fire. Talayeh had embarrassed you in front of your friends, and in front of the whole community. Everyone we’ve spoken to knows about it. How far would you go to avenge that humiliation? Where were you at one a.m. on that Sunday morning?’

  ‘I told you,’ said Rani. ‘I admit that I saw the girl that night. She was intoxicated and raving about some man she claimed had tried to take advantage of her. All fantasy, of course. She would have thrown herself at him; it’s the kind of woman she was.’ His disgust was plain. ‘I said I would talk to her when she was sober,’ he went on. ‘She was alive and fully conscious when I delivered her back to Wellington Road.’

  ‘Then what did you do?’

  ‘I drove to my house in Hall Green.’

  ‘What do you think?’ Mariner asked Jesson when she returned to Granville Lane.

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Jesso
n. ‘Rani admits taking Talayeh back to Wellington Road. But that doesn’t mean he isn’t responsible. He could have hit her. He could have plied her with more drink from that booze in his office, then waited until Talayeh went into the house and was out cold before setting the fire. He’s Mustafa’s friend; he’d probably been to Wellington Road before and knew that the office where she was sleeping was effectively an incendiary device.’

  ‘But what about the risk to the others?’

  ‘Maybe he wasn’t thinking straight,’ said Jesson. ‘And he could be angry with the Shahs, too, for having put him in that position.’

  ‘Yes, awkward for them too,’ said Mariner. ‘How close are Rani and Mustafa Shah? Could the two of them have conspired?’

  ‘Oh crap, the money!’ said Jesson suddenly. ‘When Bingley was doing the initial checks on the Shahs, he started to tell me that Mustafa Shah withdrew ten thousand pounds in cash, shortly before he went to Sana’a.’

  ‘Well, he couldn’t have taken it with him,’ said Mariner. ‘He’d have had to declare a sum that large. Does this mean he paid someone to set the fire for him? Salwa could have been in on it too.’

  ‘But she’s seemed genuinely shocked and upset,’ said Jesson. ‘I don’t think a woman would put her children at risk like that. There is another possibility,’ she went on. ‘Mai made it sound as if Talayeh was backed into a corner, with no way out. If Rani now refused her, how desperate would she be? She’d screwed up her chances with him and she couldn’t go back to the Yemen. Would that be enough to cause her to take her own life? Could she have started the fire herself?’

  There was only one person who could answer that question.

  ‘It’s possible,’ said Gerry Docherty. ‘There’s accelerant splashed across the floor in that downstairs room.’

  ‘But would she do that?’ Mariner wasn’t convinced. ‘Talayeh’s been raised a devout Muslim, and suicide is forbidden in the Islamic faith.’

  ‘But we know she had also been drinking,’ argued Jesson. ‘It could have been an attempt to get back at the Shahs that went horribly wrong.’