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Roper sat quietly in front of Julie Mayweather. She had been going to play the video recording of the moment he’d lost the plot, but he was looking so enthusiastic she didn’t have the heart to do it.
The footage had been taken by the surveillance team watching a house owned by a man Roper had identified as the leader of a paedophile gang. Thanks to Roper’s efforts they had established he was like a spider sitting at the centre of a world-wide net of internet links.
When police had officially arrested the man, they found tens of thousands of images and evidence proving he was behind the rape and murder of dozens of children. It had proved one of the biggest successes for the Special Investigation Unit but had nearly turned into an utter fiasco.
Brian Hooley had told her he had put weight back on but she thought he would always be skinny. He looked as though he needed a good meal but in fact he ate an astonishing amount of all types of food and never gained an ounce. He said it was because he had an excellent metabolism, Mayweather thought it owed a great deal to the nervous energy he expended.
But looking at him now she agreed with her deputy that, all things considered, he was in much better shape than a short while ago.
“I asked you to see me today because I need to formally welcome you back and there are a couple of things I need to say before I can do that.”
Roper was nodding so eagerly she almost laughed.
“The most important is: do you realise that you can’t go around arresting people? You’re an investigator, a very good one, and that’s why you’re attached to my team; but you are not a policeman.”
The nodding was now very vigorous.
She thought of the things she could say. How the Crown Prosecutors had said that, if he had managed to reach the gang leader, it would have wrecked a multi-million-pound investigation. She sighed.
“Go on, get out of here and go and bother the Chief Inspector.” She held up her right index finger as he stood, wanting to add one more thing. “It’s good to have you back. We’ve missed that amazing brain of yours.”
Chapter 6
“You impressed the boss then,” Hooley was sitting behind his desk. Roper was studying him closely, clearly hoping to read something into the DCI’s expression. Hooley decided to help him. Pointing in the direction of his own chin he said. “This is the look of someone who is both pleased and relieved. I was pretty hopeful she’d have you back but you can never be sure.” He paused for a moment. “I thought we’d agreed that trying to work out what people are thinking was a waste of your time.”
Roper looked bashful. It was ironic that someone who struggled to work out body language was himself an open book.
“Sorry; I am trying to stop but I think a bit of me keeps hoping that if I try hard enough I will be able to do what other people do.”
Hooley could think of no answer to that so quickly steered the conversation on to work. He pointed at the newly installed desk.
“That’s you,” said the DCI with a nod. “The tech team says you are still on the system so you can log on straight away. Once you’ve had a bit of time to read in, we can talk.”
Sitting down, Roper cast a quick glance around the room. It was just the way he liked things; clean and tidy with minimal clutter; nothing that would distract him from his job. He and Hooley were alike in that way. The DCI was not a sentimental man and had no pictures of his family on display; keeping them in a drawer instead. But he did have one of his dog; a large and overweight black Labrador. The dog was apparently smiling at the camera, his large pink tongue flopping out of the side of his mouth.
Roper spent the rest of the morning reading and memorising the police reports and then trawled the Internet as he built an ever-expanding profile of Sir James and his charity work. Over the next few days he would build in more detail and lengthen the timeline, but for now he was focussing on the last couple of years. His thoughts were interrupted by Hooley’s voice.
“Do you fancy going to get coffee and a couple of sandwiches for us? I’ll have an Americano with milk and whatever you think looks best to eat,” he said, brandishing a £20 note at Roper.
“My treat to welcome you back, so get whatever you want, and then after we’ve eaten let’s have a quick review.”
Fifteen minutes later Roper appeared with the drinks and handed Hooley a smoked salmon on brown, his drink and change made up of a £5 note and some coins. For himself he’d opted for two chicken and avocado sandwiches. Despite having twice the amount of food he still finished eating first.
Finally, the DCI was wiping his hands on the paper napkin.
“Good choice that, Jonathan. They do make a very good smoked salmon.”
Roper smiled, Brian Hooley always said the same thing after eating that sandwich.
“Right, you go first?” said the DCI.
Roper took a quick breath and then launched into his assessment.
“I agree with what you told me yesterday. There’s no obvious reason why anyone would want to kill him. There’s no suggestion of anything controversial happening in his business affairs or any hint of a dispute. In fact, he hasn’t been involved in any business deals for quite some time with his entire focus on his charitable foundation.”
While he was talking he had got to his feet and now he walked round in front of Hooley before continuing. Although the DCI wasn’t fazed by his habit of walking around while talking, he was aware that others on the squad found it an irritating habit. It was another reason to keep the younger man in his office.
Roper was warming to his theme. “But just because we can’t see a reason, doesn’t mean there isn’t one. In fact, I am thinking that something changed very recently. That would explain why no one seems to be aware of anything: something happened, Sir James reacted and that’s what sealed his death.”
Hooley noted he was pacing ever faster and knew this happened when Roper’s thoughts were piling up and waiting to be spoken aloud. It was almost as though the man was a production line of ideas.
“I also think that they mutilated the body on the spur of the moment. There must have been some sort of confrontation and then his murderers realised they needed to do some clearing up if they were to avoid discovery.”
Roper trailed off for a moment and he stopped pacing.
“I don’t want to rule out that it might have been something in his private life but this feels very controlled and calculated. There was no real effort to hide the body, removing his head, hands and feet just made our job a lot harder. Also, the mutilation was done cleanly and efficiently so it wasn’t some crime of passion.”
Hooley thought that, as usual, Roper had gone to the heart of the matter. He found it fascinating that this was the same man who only yesterday had made such insensitive remarks about his weight, and yet here he was delivering a cool and reasoned analysis.
“Interesting,” Hooley said. “I hadn’t thought of it being connected to very recent events but I can see where you’re going. Just stick to your instincts on this one. The original detectives did a good job first time round and they never found any trace of a secret lover, male or female, so it doesn’t appear to be a domestic matter. After his wife died he apparently withdrew into himself.”
Hooley rubbed his hands together, something of a habit. Years ago, Roper had been puzzled by what it meant. Then it dawned on him that after making the gesture the DCI would leap into action. Roper, who loved cricket with a passion because you could lose yourself in reams of facts, thought it was similar to what was described as a batsman’s ‘trigger movement’ as they prepared to play the next ball.
“Fancy visiting the crime scene then?” said Hooley. He went over to grab his jacket, which was hanging on the stand near the door. As he was slipping it on Roper asked. “Can we visit his home first? I think it will help me get more of a feel for the man.”
“Fine by me,” said Hooley who looked thoughtful as he stretched his arms wide to make his coat fit comf
ortably. “Actually, that might be a good idea. Since we confirmed the ID of the body, the warehouse has been awash with people going over every inch of the place. I’m not saying a bad job was done first time round, but the boss is determined that everything is gone through with a fine-tooth comb.”
“They’re going back to his house when they finish, either today or tomorrow, so the only company we should have is the poor sod on guard duty at the front door.”
He got up and headed for the lift. He didn’t look round to see if Roper was following; he knew he would be.
Chapter 7
Sir James Taylor’s Eaton Square home was an imposing, five-storey Georgian townhouse, with immaculate white stucco plastered on the front. The black front door was reached by a set of steps. Opposite was the garden area enclosed by metal railings and usually occupied by uniformed nannies and their young charges. To his complete surprise Hooley was able to find a parking slot almost outside. He and Roper walked up the short flight of steps to the front door and showed their ID’s to the uniformed officer standing by the door.
“Been here long?” said the DCI with sympathy.
“Got here at 5am, Sir. It was cold then and now it’s hot; the sun is beating down on this side of the road, as luck would have it.” The PC looked miserable.
“Tell you what. If you spot a traffic warden nosing around my car, you have my permission to Taser him.”
The remark brought a grin and the constable turned around to open the door and let them into the house. As the door closed behind them Roper turned to his boss, he was looking concerned.
“I don’t think you should encourage people to go around shooting traffic wardens with a Taser.”
Hooley turned to stare at him. “It was a joke Jonathan.”
“But you told him he had permission to do it. It didn’t sound like a joke to me. And you are being very unfair to target people who are only doing their job. Without traffic wardens, the whole city would grind to a halt with drivers just parking where they liked.”
The DCI was initially taken aback and then realised that this was exactly the sort of thing over which Roper could become unexpectedly passionate, and decided he needed to sort the issue out straight away.
“The point is, the man is doing a horribly boring job and standing in the sun wearing a heavy uniform. He’s obviously fed-up so I was trying to cheer him up a bit. I can assure you that he won’t be shooting anyone.”
There was a long pause while this was absorbed.
“I think I understand,” said Roper. “You’re using distraction theory to create a humorous counterpoint.”
Hooley puffed his cheeks out.
“I hadn’t thought of it quite like that but I suppose so. Now, shall we get on with what we came for?”
Hooley was silently praying that this would prove a sufficient ‘distraction’ to get them off the topic and his hopes were answered as Roper went into investigation mode. He reached into his jacket and pulled on a pair of gloves before starting a careful examination of the entrance way.
After watching him for a few moments he asked. “Are you doing that 3D thing?”
“Yes,” said Roper distractedly, who was now intent on the black and white marble floor tiles. He had once told Hooley that he could recreate a 3D image of anywhere he visited if he just took a little time to memorise the details. He said it allowed him to see it from every possible angle. Anyone else and the DCI would have thought this was ‘bollocks’ but he knew that if Roper said he could do something then he could.
Over the next hour they toured the huge and eerily quiet house. Roper was silent throughout as he maintained concentration and spent a surprising amount of time checking the bathroom. In the master bedroom, he had carefully studied all the suits and clothing hanging in the dressing room. Hooley thought it was especially poignant that despite his wife having been dead for several years her clothes were still there, carefully preserved in plastic wrapping.
Finishing up on the top floor, Hooley asked him if anything was standing out.
“Not really. I did notice that he had just got a new prescription for his blood pressure medication so that might suggest he wasn’t expecting anything to change in his life. The only thing I don’t understand is why he kept his wife’s clothes.”
“I think he was just holding on to her memory. They were very happy together by all accounts.”
Roper ran his fingers through his hair.
“I don’t know why he needed clothes to remember her, not unless his memory was going wrong.”
Hooley was grateful that he didn’t have to reply to that one as Roper was off down the stairs.
“I’d like to have another look at his study.”
He bounded away, leaving the DCI following and musing on how powerful memories could be.
Chapter 8
Roper had shot down the stairs, oblivious to the risk of falling. Hooley, following at a more sedate pace, saw him disappear in the direction of the study. A few moments later the silence was broken by shouting. A jolt of adrenaline helped Hooley overcame his vertigo and he took the rest of the stairs at a run. Dashing into the room he expected to find Roper struggling with an intruder. Instead the younger man was spinning slowly on the spot with his eyes shut. Before he could ask what was going on the constable guarding the door ran in.
“Is everything OK? I heard shouting and thought you might be in trouble.”
He trailed off as he took in the gently rotating Roper.
“What the….!”
Before he could finish Hooley calmly gripped his arm and led him out of the room. He gave the man a conspiratorial wink and said, “Best not to ask.”
“But what was he doing? You’re not going to tell me that is some sort of new CID thing.”
“No, no. It’s nothing like that. But I fear the answer may make your head hurt.”
The PC quickly went back to his door duty, relieved to leave them to it. Sighing heavily Hooley made his way back into the study. Roper was waiting for him with an eager expression.
“Could you go into the centre of the room and sing something, or if you can’t sing then just shout.”
Before his fuddled brain could come up with a reply Roper looked quizzical and said. “Is that a cross expression on your face?” he asked earnestly.
Hooley rolled his eyes.
“It’s not a cross face at the moment but it could become one unless you can explain why you want me to start singing.”
“I want to listen to the echoes. I tried it myself but my own voice gets stuck in my ears so it vibrates.”
Hooley made a Herculean effort to resist asking what he meant by the sound getting stuck in his ears. He feared the answer might make him feel dizzy. He sighed again and wondered if this was what is was like to find yourself in an alternate reality.
He decided it was best to focus on the room. It was about twenty feet square and maybe fifteen feet high, if he was any judge. There were two large windows on one wall which featured floor to ceiling curtains in a thick, lined fabric. They were cream coloured traced with blue, pink and green flowers. The dominant piece of furniture was an antique desk with a top about six feet wide and almost the same depth. It was polished to such a gleaming golden-brown lustre it was easy to imagine it would be warm to the touch. Behind was a huge wall-to-ceiling bookcase. Facing the desk were three wall-mounted televisions and in front of them was a dark green sofa that was almost certainly an original Chesterfield. The carpet was so thick it seemed to deaden all sound.
“You’re telling me you can hear echoes in here?” He had a lot of time for Roper but this was stretching things.
“Of course.”
Hooley decided to get it over with, at least no one else was watching.
He strode to where he guessed was the centre, took one final and sceptical look at his colleague, and shouted “ARSENAL!” at the top of his voice. It felt oddly liberating and he was about to do it again when Roper pointed at th
e book case.
“That’s it. There’s a space behind that.”
Hooley’s jaw dropped in surprise. “There’s a hidden room in here?”
Roper ignored the question as he started searching through the desk drawers. Within a few minutes he had what looked like two TV remote controls which he studied closely, holding them up to take advantage of the light from the windows. He nodded to himself, put one down, and then pointed the other at the bookcase. Nothing happened then Roper pointed it at a different spot and to Hooley’s astonishment one section silently slid backwards to reveal a dark opening.
“How did you know that would work?”
Roper held the remote up.
“If you look closely you can see that only the select button has been used. Not the power button.” He clicked the remote again and the door slid shut. Roper pointed at a tiny object on the bookcase, it was so small Hooley still had to look closely. “I also noticed this receiver here. It’s a line of sight system so you have to point the remote at it to access the room. That’s why I couldn’t open it the first time. The other one was clearly for the TV because so many buttons have been used.” He pointed this one at the three screens and they all flickered to life.
Hooley shook his head in admiration and looked at both remotes. He couldn’t see the difference and would never have spotted the receiver without Roper’s help. He couldn’t resist opening and closing the secret door a couple of times before he looked inside. There was a light switch just inside the entrance and he flicked it on to reveal a space about the size of a large broom cupboard. On one side was a formidable looking safe and there were a series of shelves on the other. The only thing on them was a laptop.
(Jonathan Roper Investigates Boxset Page 3
