The officers assigned to checking out those on the debtor’s list were making fair headway. Those of the debtors they had so far checked had alibis that stood up to basic scrutiny, though there were a couple on the list who had relatives on Primrose Avenue. One was a Paul Dicker, the little brother of Samantha and the other was the unmarried daughter of Mr and Mrs Jones. There might yet be others, but the checking was still continuing and would doubtless go on for some time yet.
As luck would have it, Paul Dicker and Alison Jones lived just around the corner from one another in Abbot’s Walk and Cymbeline Way respectively, to the south of the High Street.
Paul Dicker lived in a bedsit and worked at the DIY store on the industrial estate. Fortunately, Forbes’s list included telephone numbers. One of the other tenants answered the phone and told Llewellyn that Dicker was at home, though he would be going to work shortly, so they went round there before they missed him, not wanting to cause him any unnecessary embarrassment at his place of work.
Paul Dicker turned out to be a weedy young man in his late teens. As soon as Llewellyn introduced them Dicker seemed to become agitated and a nervous tick started up under his right eye. He put an unsteady hand up to try to still it and explained he was worried he’d be late for work.
‘We won’t keep you long, Mr Dicker,’ Rafferty assured him. A quick check on the computer before they left the station had elicited the information that Dicker had a conviction for assault. It had happened a year ago when he, like Tony Moran, had been hanging around with a rough crowd. He hadn’t been in any trouble since and seemed to have turned over a new leaf since his one and only court appearance.
Dicker’s bedsit was untidy like the rooms of most teenagers. Discarded clothes lay around in heaps and a bag of clean laundry sat by the door as though its owner expected it to empty itself into the shabby chest of drawers. There were posters of footballers and bands decorating the drab walls; they added a much needed splash of colour in the otherwise beige room.
Rafferty repeated Llewellyn’s telephone explanation for their visit. ‘We’re checking with all Mr Forbes’s debtors so that we can narrow down the suspects in our murder investigation. Can you tell me where you were last Friday between say two forty-five and three-thirty?’
‘I was at work. I was on the day shift last week. You can check with my supervisor if you like, Dave Blandford.’
‘We’ll do that. Thank you. Tell me, Mr Dicker, how are you coping with your debt to Mr Forbes? Managing to pay it off OK?’
Dicker fidgeted on the unmade bed. His baby face looked pink. ‘I’ve missed a few payments,’ he admitted. ‘I find it hard to manage since I left home.’ He pulled a face. ‘My parents split and my mum’s married again. I don’t get on with her new bloke so I moved out. Sam—Samantha, my sister, tried to persuade me to stay put. She said I wouldn’t be able to manage financially on my own.’
It seemed like his big sister had been right, given the loan and the lad’s failure to make regular payments.
‘Have any threats been made to you regarding your failure to meet your payments regularly?’ Rafferty asked.
Dicker went even pinker. ‘The collector wasn’t very pleasant last time he called. He made it clear he expected me to find the money in future. There was a distinct whiff of “or else” about it. I admit he had me scared. I told my sister what he said.’
‘Your sister’s in debt to the same firm of moneylenders,’ Llewellyn said. ‘Do you share the same collector?’
‘Yeah. The dead bloke. John Harrison. I was round at my sister’s lodgings one day when he called.’ He gave a faint smile. ‘I thought I’d managed to dodge him at my place, but no such luck. My sister had to make my payment for me. It was good of her as she hasn’t much money either. She’s a student and she’s rarely got any spare cash, so I felt bad about it. She keeps telling me not to worry about paying her back.’
‘It must be good to have such a helpful big sister,’ said Rafferty, the eldest of six siblings. He wished he had one. He could do with a big sister helping him pay the wedding bills. ‘Makes a habit of getting you out of trouble, does she?’
Dicker nodded. ‘I don’t know what I’d do without her, especially when it’s the end of the month and before I get paid. She always says I ought to live according to my income. That’s what she tries to do.’ Not with any great success given her association with Forbes. ‘She’s very frugal. Practically lives on rice and lentils and buys her clothes from charity shops. She says it’ll all be worth it when she’s qualified and can get a good job.’
Dicker had turned very chatty. He appeared fond of his sister and it seemed the affection was mutual. Would Samantha Dicker resort to murder to save her baby brother from Jaws Harrison’s threats? It was certainly a possibility. Samantha was a strapping girl who clearly made use of all the sporting facilities at the local university. She had told them she rowed for the university team, so wouldn’t lack the muscle to attack Harrison. Not that much muscle had been required, according to Sam Dally. Only the element of surprise and the determination to keep hitting.
After confiding his thoughts to Llewellyn, Rafferty said once they had left Dicker, ‘Let’s get round to this other one on the list, Alison Jones.’
Alison Jones was tall and thin like her mother, but seemed far more animated than the lethargic Margaret Jones. She must take after her father when it came to energy as she rushed about her tiny flat whisking things off seats until the place looked like a whirlwind had gone through it, tidying everything away. Not that it had been unkempt before.
‘You said on the phone that you wanted to ask me about my loan.’
Rafferty nodded.
‘I suppose it’s concerning the murder down my parents’ road? They told me about it.’
Rafferty explained they were checking out Forbes’s debtors.
‘Why? You surely can’t think I killed the man? I was at work when it happened.’ She reeled off the name and address of her employers, then said, ‘I mightn’t have liked him, and I’ve had reason to regret taking out my loan with his firm, but I’m not given to violence.’ She faltered suddenly in her confident denial. ‘Of course. Silly of me. You’ve found out, haven’t you?’
Rafferty gave an ambivalent nod. Found out what? he wondered. He might not know now, but he guessed that if she was referring to some violent incident in her past, he soon would. They should have checked.
‘It was ages ago. I was only a kid. I split a girl’s head open when I was in my last year at school. This girl had been bullying me and this one day I just saw red and whacked her with my rounder’s bat. Problem solved.’ She grinned suddenly. It made her look very like her father. There was a hint of mischief there but also an element of ruthlessness. Problem solved indeed. Did her father share such a character trait? And had he decided on a simple if temporary resolution to his family’s problems? If so, would Forbes himself be the next victim?
Chapter Thirteen
Rafferty was pleased to discover on their return to the station that Tony Moran had decided to come clean and confirm the identities of his fellow assailants. And though he was still adamant that he and his friends had had nothing to do with Jaws Harrison’s murder, he admitted they had also been responsible for the other two muggings as well as the one on Izzy Barber. Rafferty, delighted, was hard put to restrain an ear to ear grin.
He sent three separate teams to pick up Des Arnott and the two Sterling youths, wanting their opportunity to concoct a tale that stood up better to scrutiny than their previous one, strictly limited. He also told them to be sure the three were wearing their leather jackets and Nike trainers, rather than some other non-incriminating apparel. It would be good to get the muggings cases, at least, wrapped up.
The three youths were still full of denials and protests of innocence when they were brought in. Followed by yet more “no comments”. However, they failed even to say the latter when Rafferty ordered them to remove their jackets and trainers. With
sneers, they simply slipped out of them as though they believed that any protests would give Rafferty exactly what he wanted.
He rushed the clothing off to the lab for forensic tests with the request that they were processed urgently. Then he went back to Interview Room two and Jake Sterling.
Sterling looked sullen and not quite so cocky without his leather jacket and sporting the plastic footwear they’d supplied.
‘You know your tale about you and your friends being innocent victims of assault are unravelling, don’t you?’ Rafferty asked.
Sterling said nothing.
‘We've now got the CCTV footage of the High Street where you said you and your friends were assaulted. Surprise, surprise, there's not a sign of you, your mates or your assailants. You've been telling porkies, Jake. Not for the first time. So, were you assaulting the opposition for Malcolm Forbes? Putting the frighteners on to encourage the other local loan sharks out of business?’
‘No I wasn't.'
'That's not what your little friend, Tony Moran said.'
'That little tosser.'
'That little tosser's said some pretty incriminating things.'
'I wouldn't believe a word he says. Little knob still believes in fairy tales. I don’t work for nobody, me.’
‘Oh, so it was strictly private enterprise mugging you went in for? Is that what you’re telling me?’
‘I’m telling you nothing. Only that I didn’t mug anybody.’
‘If that’s all you’ve got to say, you can save it for the judge. I’m confident we’ve got you for the latest mugging and we've a fair chance on the other two. The forensic results will confirm it. It’s only a matter of time, so why don’t you confess and make it easier for yourself?’
‘Make it easier for you, more like.’
Rafferty looked at him and shrugged. ‘Suit yourself. All I was thinking was that a guilty plea would reduce your sentence. You’re going down, either way.’
But Sterling ignored the advice. As did his brother and Des Arnott. Rafferty left them to stew. He would waste no more time on them.
‘I reckon we’ve got them for the Izzy Barber mugging,’ Rafferty said after Sterling had been taken back to the cells and he and Llewellyn had returned to the office. ‘Maybe even one of the earlier ones if we get really lucky with forensics, but that still leaves Jaws’ murder.’
‘I don’t think that was one of theirs. Different MO for one thing.’
Rafferty nodded. ‘Shame. It would be nice to get these little toughs banged up for some decent time. But I don’t think it’s going to happen.’ Still, he thought, it was good that he’d made such excellent progress on the muggings investigation as he was due to report to Superintendent Bradley imminently. They’d caught their muggers and all without him really applying himself as diligently as he ought to have done to the case.
‘I’m off to get a pat on the head from the super,’ he told Llewellyn.
‘I wouldn’t be so sure,’ Llewellyn said. ‘We’re no further on in solving the murder,’ he reminded Rafferty.
‘Don’t be such a doom and gloom merchant,’ Rafferty complained. ‘Let me enjoy my moment of triumph. Old Long Pockets Bradley will have forgotten all about it and be on my tail again soon enough.’
‘I did suggest we should concentrate on the psychological aspects of the case.’ Llewellyn reminded him. ‘Perhaps we can go through them when you return from basking in the superintendent’s praise?’
‘Okay.’ Rafferty, delighted that his clear up rate had just improved, was happy to agree to anything. Even a conversation about an ‘ology’.
‘To get back to the psychological angle we were speaking about earlier,’ Llewellyn began when Rafferty returned from having his head reluctantly patted by the super. Llewellyn ignored Rafferty’s sigh and went on quietly. ‘You have to admit your methods haven’t got us much farther forward on the murder inquiry.’
Rafferty was only too aware of it. Hadn’t Superintendent Bradley’s less than heavy-handed praise for a conclusion to the muggings investigation been interspersed with reproaches for his failure to come up with a solution to Jaws Harrison’s killing? ‘And there was me thinking I was going about finding the answer in a highly logical manner.’
‘You have been,’ Llewellyn agreed. ‘But you must admit that logic has never been your forte. You’ve always been better at making wild, intuitive leaps and somehow coming up trumps. Maybe you ought to let the right side of your brain have its head. But while we’re waiting for intuition to kick in, now we’re reduced to only a handful of suspects, maybe it’s time to dig a little deeper into their personalities.’
‘Dig away, if you must.’ Rafferty subsided into his chair. ‘Let’s hear it.’
‘As I said, if we look at the personalities of the remaining suspects, the most likely to my mind are Leslie Sterling and Harry Jones. Though Peter Allbright is still too much of a dark horse to be completely excluded. I—’
The phone went just then and Rafferty snatched it up eagerly. He listened, asked a few questions and put the phone down. ‘Well,’ he said. ‘You’re right about one thing at least.’
‘And what’s that?’
‘About Peter Allbright being a dark horse. That was Harry Jones on the phone. Allbright’s just topped himself.’
When they got round to Primrose Avenue, it was to find Margaret Jones on the sofa crying softly. Harry Jones was pacing restlessly up and down as though, if he didn’t keep active, he, too, might give way.
‘What happened?’ Rafferty asked one of the paramedics who’d been called out to attend Allbright.
‘Took a load of Paracetamol. Late last night would be my guess as he was well gone when we arrived. The empty packets were by his bed. He must have been stockpiling them seeing as most chemists won’t allow you to buy so many at one time.’
From what the paramedic said, it seem Allbright had been planning his suicide for some days. Rafferty wondered if this planning dated back to Harrison’s murder. Maybe a count up of the discarded packets of Paracetamol would tell him.
‘We thought he’d gone out this morning when he didn’t put in an appearance. Round to the Job Centre,’ Harry Jones told them. ‘He goes there every day.’
To the chemists, too, to judge by what the paramedic had said. ‘Was there a note?’ Rafferty asked, having visions of their murder being solved with Allbright’s death confession.
But the paramedic shook his head. ‘There was nothing like that. He just upped and left this world without a goodbye to anyone. Didn’t leave a thing for his parents or his landlords to say why he did it. Very sad.’
Even without a note confessing all, Rafferty couldn’t help but wonder if this was the solution to the case. Had Peter Allbright killed himself out of remorse for killing Jaws Harrison and in the expectation of being arrested?
But when he questioned Harry Jones the man was adamant that neither he nor Allbright had left the garden on the afternoon of Harrison’s death. Though, as he commented later to Llewellyn, he would say that, wouldn’t he?
With Harry and Margaret Jones in a state of shock, Rafferty had judged it the right time to question them as to why they had lied about not seeing John Harrison on the previous Friday. But Harry had still vehemently denied seeing Harrison. Then Rafferty dropped his bombshell.
‘We know John Harrison was here that afternoon,’ he told them. ‘We have proof. He made a non-payment entry against you and your wife's name and against that of your lodger, so we know he called. So why did you lie about it?’
Slowly, the colour drained from Harry Jones’s face till he looked as pale as cream cheese. But this time he didn’t deny the accusation. Instead, he just slumped down on the settee which, luckily, was just behind him and stared at Rafferty from sad eyes, then asked, ‘How did you find out? His payment records book wasn't by the body.’
For a moment, Rafferty didn’t answer. Instead, he studied Margaret Jones. She didn’t seem to have taken in Rafferty’s w
ords. She still sat clutching her tissue and staring at nothing. ‘We found John Harrison’s payments record book. Mr Forbes collected it off Harrison himself and handed it to his accountant. It shows he visited you on the afternoon of his murder. Mr Jones? I’d like an answer, please. Why did you lie?’
The seconds ticked away. Finally, Jones answered. ‘I know it looks bad. We knew Harrison’s payments book was missing. And given our debt problems, I suppose we just hoped it would never turn up We took a chance when we said we hadn’t seen him that day. But I’m sorry we lied. I suppose it makes us look suspicious?’
Rafferty said nothing for a moment, then he said. ‘No more suspicious than some of the other residents. You’re not the only ones who lied to us. But I imagine you already knew that?’
Harry Jones gave a doleful nod.
‘How did you know his payments record book was missing?’ Rafferty asked. ‘It wasn’t a piece of information we gave out to the media.’
Harry Jones’s brow furrowed. He shook his head. But then his brow cleared and he said, ‘I remember now. Eric Lewis must have mentioned it. Him as found the body.’
‘We suspected there might have been collusion. Who suggested you all deny seeing Jaws Harrison?’
Jones shrugged. ‘I think it was a mutual decision. We were most of us in the same boat.’
‘Yet Eric Lewis, who found the body, wasn’t in debt to Forbes. Or at least he had all but cleared the debt. Why would he fall in with the story that none of you had seen Harrison that afternoon?’
‘I don’t know that he did. I’m not even sure that he was aware of our hurried decision. He was in shock, of course, after finding Harrison’s body. He said he’d started back up the alley to go home, but before he got there he decided to cross the road to Jim Jenkins and tell him what he’d found. Emily Parker came out while he was on the doorstep and also heard the tale. After that, it just snowballed down the street. We had a confab here and decided to deny seeing Harrison. It seemed the simplest thing to do. All I can say is that it seemed like a good idea at the time.’
Death Dues Page 37
