Roper had reacted by burying himself in research and Hooley had gone back to checking the rest of his team, gently encouraging people who were working at the limit of their physical and emotional capability.
Heading back to his own office he sat down and realised it was lunch-time. He tried to gain Roper’s attention by tossing a screwed-up piece of paper in his direction, but even though it bounced off his head there was no response. Hooley rolled his eyes and hauled himself to his feet to cross over and tap Roper on the hand. He said. “I’ll get the sandwiches and coffee then you can tell me what you’ve been up to.”
Roper nodded distractedly, which the DCI took as a yes, and ten minutes later he was back with the food. Roper grabbed his sandwiches and started eating without saying anything. Hooley, knowing his man, concentrated on cooling his coffee while he waited for his colleague to rejoin the world.
Food finished, Roper carefully folded his wrappers - he liked to create the smallest shape possible - and dropped them into his waste paper bin. Then he stared at his screen for so long the DCI thought he would have to go and shake him. But before he could do that Roper held up a story he had photocopied from the Evening Standard.
“That solicitor you mentioned, David Evans. The one where his secretary seems to have admitted murdering him. I think he might have something to do with this. Not in a criminal sense, but I think he is connected to the Sir James case.”
Hooley was genuinely surprised. This was the last thing he had expected to be told. He wanted to know more. “What’s making you think that?” he asked.
“It’s a lot of little things,” said Roper. “The fact that he was killed at the same time that Sir James disappeared is one of our ‘coincidences’.” He mimed quotation marks in the air as he said it.
“Then I couldn’t understand why the secretary should kill him. Especially after I read this.” He brandished the photocopied news story at Hooley. “The Standard has spoken to people who knew them both well. They all said it was a very normal working relationship with no suggestion of a romantic element. It’s not just the paper; the same information emerges from the police file.
“It’s a real puzzle. I had started out thinking it would be a case of the spurned lover, perhaps because he wouldn’t leave his wife, but there’s no suggestion of that at all.”
He put the cutting down and looked at the picture of Sylvia Jones that the paper had used to accompany the article. “So, that leaves us with the question about why did she do it? It made me realise I was missing something important, something I hadn’t spotted yet.”
Hooley was so drawn in he had moved round to sit on the edge of his desk. He said. “You’ve got my attention so keep going.”
Roper leaned forwards, his eyes blinking rapidly. “The way she killed him is what has really had me thinking. Where did she get a gun from? I work with the police and I have no idea of where I would get a weapon from, short of asking you of course, and you would say no.”
Hooley muttered “I would” under his breath. The idea was not something to dwell on.
Roper was too busy talking to notice. “But it’s not just getting the gun. The report says the killing was a single bullet to the head, and no others were fired. That is pretty amazing. I know our SAS protectors talk about “double-taps” as if it is nothing, but my understanding is that getting just one shot right requires some expertise. And a gun expert is the last thing she was.”
Hooley thought that was a point well made. The idea of a professional killer masquerading as a Personal Assistant belonged in the realm of James Bond. That left a question though. “Are you saying she didn’t do it at all?” he asked. “I thought she had confessed all in the letter?”
“There was a bit more in the letter than the paper reported and she did admit to the murder. That was where I wasted time because I was trying to work out why she did it. But then I realised I was asking the wrong question. The big thing is who gave her the gun? Once we work that out we can understand the rest.”
Roper paused but clearly had more to say. “There’s another thing. Her mother’s dementia had been getting much worse. The police discovered that Sylvia Jones was getting worked up over the thought of not being able to care for her. She hated the thought of putting her mother into care.
“But I realised that was another part of the puzzle; if she was so worried about her mum, why wait for a few weeks before killing herself and the old lady? She was running the risk of getting arrested which would have led to an enforced separation. Her mother would've had to go into care, which is the last thing she wanted.”
It was a complicated idea and Hooley was struggling to get his head round all of it. “I’m still not sure how you are linking this to our case, apart from the coincidence in timing.” Then he saw Roper’s expression. “Am I right in thinking you’ve held the best back to last?”
Roper nodded.
“In that case I want to get the boss involved. We’ll go and find her and you can run it through from the start.”
Chapter 55
“He was a genealogist, a very good one.” Roper looked at the two officers. “He was regarded as one of the best people to turn to if you were having problems establishing a family line.”
“I haven’t been following the case in detail but I have seen reports, and I don’t recall seeing him described as anything but a solicitor,” said Mayweather.
“It’s not in the police case file, or even in the press coverage. I found out myself from looking at message boards.”
Hooley raised an eyebrow but, before he could ask the question, Roper was explaining.
“I got really interested in genealogy about 18 months ago. It’s absolutely brilliant because you can really lose yourself. Anyway, I thought I recognised his name from some of the online message boards, and I was right.
“He mostly worked on his own but he got a reputation for offering great advice and being willing to help other people.”
Mayweather was intrigued. “So, tell me how you have jumped from bio-research and missing scientists to genealogy?”
Roper looked abashed. “Ever since I started using my Rainbow Spectrum, I have been thinking about genetic research and wondered what would happen if scientists were looking for a certain genetic marker that was being passed down a family line? Then it came to me. A genealogist might be a good person to ask. From what I’ve read David Evans was regarded as the man who could find anyone or any family line.”
“I started thinking about the details bio-tech companies might be looking for, especially if they were trying to find new ways to halt ageing or prevent disease. They would be very keen to have a look at families where people are long lived. You know those stories, everyone seems to have a ninety-year-old great aunt who smoked 40 cigarettes a day and never had a cough, let alone cancer.”
Hooley was both fascinated and doubtful. “But surely it would be easy to track people like that?”
Roper shook his head. “That’s the thing though. It can be very hard to find family lines. People change their names, marry, move away, fail to register. And even if one family line had a genetic protection against cancer they might not have realised it.”
Hooley’s eyebrows rose at this but he kept silent as Mayweather looked at him and gave a brief shake of her head.
Roper went on. “If you think about it, there are plenty of ways to die apart from cancer. So, someone might die from heart disease and no one would ever know that if they had lived long enough they would never have got cancer.”
“All the complications make experts like David Evans important because they can find answers where others fail. Actually, I really wish I could have met him, I think he would have been a very interesting man. Once I had reasoned this through I put Evans into the Rainbow Spectrum and it was like he plugged in perfectly, linking to all parts of the investigation.”
Both officers absorbed all this. Mayweather was the first to respond. “So where do you think this lea
ves us now? And what should we be doing about it?”
Now Roper looked serious. “There’s something I am starting to get very worried about. If I’m right and they have found a family line, what are they doing about it? Maybe Tricia Williams isn’t the only person who’s been kidnapped.”
Chapter 56
Tricia Williams had finally succumbed to the despair that had been threatening since she was snatched from her home, and as she lay on her hard bed waves of tears flooded through her. Before long she ran out of energy and curled into a foetal position, not moving at all. Sykes had watched her on the CCTV with a mounting sense of irritation. He was dismayed at how quickly she had gone from calm and collected to a sobbing wreck.
The more he thought about it the more disappointed he had become. He had believed she was different to most women and had even harboured hopes he might have been able to build a relationship with her. But her behaviour now ensured that would be impossible.
He hadn’t realised it, but spending so much time alone he had taken to sulking when he didn’t get his own way. That was what he did now. He stared at Williams lying on the cot and brooded about the future. He was young, fit and had plenty of money. He was a great catch and could easily start a family. The thought of little Sykes’ running around with toy guns made him smile. He could go anywhere. His South American wine venture sounded good, but it was still possible to find parts of the USA that were pretty wild and home to like-minded people.
Without thinking he had gone and poured himself a small measure of scotch. He took it down in one gulp and the fiery liquid made his nose and eyes run. He shook his head in irritation. He never drank when he was stressed, so what was he playing at now? He knew it was from his disappointment at Tricia Williams, a thought which fueled his simmering anger against her.
The more he thought about it the more he decided she might have survived all this if she had only carried on showing the proper attitude. She’d been fine when she arrived so what was wrong with her now? No one had hurt her. All he’d done was to make the point that she needed to behave. If she’d played up in front of Burton the way she did with him that would have been the end of her.
In fact, he had done her a favour. Looked after her, made sure she was comfortable and told her what she needed to know. He carried on staring moodily at the CCTV footage when the germ of an idea hit him. There was a way he could show her how lucky she had been; it didn’t come without risk but it was the only way he could see that might get through to her.
His fantasy that they could be together was the fuel to his actions and he reasoned he only had the one chance. Now he just needed to focus on the present as he made his way down to the lower basement and opened the door to her cell. She was still curled up on her side, seemingly oblivious. He walked over and gently, but firmly, pulled her to her feet. Her eyes seemed a little unfocussed so he slapped her face. Not too hard, he thought. Just get her attention. He had to do it three more times before he was satisfied she was paying attention.
“Listen to me,” he hissed urgently at her. “You don’t know how lucky you are. I’m going to show you something that will make you realise that and then I need you to get a grip. Things could still work out well; you just have to be strong.” He was talking just centimeters from her face. If she hadn’t been so withdrawn his bad breath blasting into her would have made her recoil in distaste.
With that he pulled her out of the cell and moved down the line of doors to the right. He passed the first door, not in there he thought, and opened the one next to it. A wave of heat and a foul smell washed over them. Inside were six young women dressed in rags and looking close to death. They were lying packed together on the cold, hard floor.
“You see Tricia. I saved you from all that.”
He slammed the door shut but the stench still lingered. He ignored it and opened the next cell. The odour was just as bad, and inside were three men and a woman. They were older than the women next door but it was hard to tell how much older. Sykes made sure she had a good look before also slamming this cell shut.
Then he pulled her back to her own cell.
“You see. Just you in here. I made sure no one else was allowed in. That’s why you have to respect what I am doing and realise how grateful you should be. This could all work out very well for you.”
She turned towards him and vomited all over his front before collapsing to the floor. He stood there fighting the urge to lash out at her. He knew he couldn’t. At least not yet. But he surely would. Oh yes. She would pay for this.
Chapter 57
“He’s been on the money from the beginning. In fact, this Rainbow Spectrum really is making a difference. Even if I still can’t quite follow what he’s doing but I can see the results.” Hooley was parked in his familiar seat in Mayweather’s office. She was playing the ‘devil’s advocate’ role as they ran through what Roper had come up with.
“There’s not a shred of evidence to link the death of David Evans to our case. Just total speculation,” she said.
“I agree, but it’s Roper’s speculation. That’s worth its weight in gold. I still don’t know how he found that hidden room in Sir James’s house. That’s what led him to DF Pharmaceuticals. Roper’s view is that the people who killed Sir James had no idea about the room and panicked when it was discovered because they were worried about what else might have been there.”
Mayweather’s features tightened. “The benefit of hindsight I know, but I can’t help wishing we’d placed two officers to guard that house. The widow clearly feels I am to blame and I can understand her point.”
Hooley was sympathetic. “I asked myself the same question. We certainly had no reason to suspect anything would happen. I just saw it as the normal, boring guard duty. I still don’t see why they had to kill him. But these ‘people,’” he used his fingers to indicate he was putting brackets round the word, “are ruthless.”
She made eye contact. “Well, we can’t go back, that’s for sure. You were telling me why we should trust Jonathan’s instincts on all this.”
“There were dozens of companies named in the documents we pulled out of that room, yet he went straight to DF Pharmaceuticals. Just as we get there it emerges that their top researcher has gone missing, so he was clearly on the right track.
“Sometimes it’s easy to think he just gets lucky but we don’t have anyone else in the unit who can make that sort of intuitive jump, certainly not me. He’s still going through her material and I expect we will have something new soon. As for the link to the solicitor, David Evans, I admit I was dubious at first, but the more I think about it the more plausible it becomes.”
He reached up and gently tugged the lobe of his left ear. “There is one other reason, albeit not the most scientific. I can’t think of any reason not to support him. If he’s right, and they have taken more people than we know about then I don’t think we can risk ignoring him.”
He paused for a moment as he glanced down at the floor. “I suppose the elephant in the room is this Rainbow Spectrum of his and how reliable it is?” He shrugged. “It may help if you think of it as his way of explaining what is going through his mind. It’s an insight into how he sees things, and that’s not something he has been able to do in the past.”
He stopped and looked at his boss to see how his contribution had gone down. She didn’t keep him waiting. “I couldn’t agree more, but I’d be a liar if I said I was looking forward to spelling this out to the Commissioner and his new PR man.”
Hooley grinned at her. “High office requires the greatest sacrifice, ma’am.” He ducked out before she could throw something at him. When he sat back at his desk he saw Roper had placed a yellow Post It note on his screen. It said, “Ask me about the neighbour.”
He looked up at Roper who was staring at him expectantly. “There’s a note here that says I should ask you about the neighbour.”
Roper needed no more encouragement. “I’ve just read that David Evans
’ secretary had lived in the same house all her life. It belonged to her parents and we know the mother still lived there. It turns out the next-door neighbour has been there just as long.
“The police interviewed her at the time of the murder/suicide but apparently she didn’t have much to say. But I think we should go back and ask if anything happened in relation to the mother over the past few months. I also think that the neighbour needs to see the photos of Dan Sykes and this ‘French Pat’ character.”
Chapter 58
Mount Street is one of the roads that make up the heart of Mayfair together with Grosvenor Square and Berkeley Square. It also features two of London’s most cherished foodie destinations: Scott’s restaurant, a haven of the capital’s moneyed classes, and the Mount Street Deli with a host of devoted locals.
The surveillance team sat opposite Sykes’s HQ. It was one of the more sought-after properties and as such commanded a price tag of £25 million plus. The two officers were in the back of a Transit van modified for undercover work. Special panels on the sides allowed them to see out but no one could see in to spot the camera trained on the front door.
It was boring work, despite its importance. Since 6.30am this morning all they had seen were pedestrians wandering by. Now it was mid-afternoon and with no activity at the house one of the pair, Sally Booth, had found a way to pass the time by marveling at the money on display from the locals. She watched a stick-thin blonde walking past, a bag dangling languidly on her right arm.
(Jonathan Roper Investigates Boxset Page 18
