Death in Elysium

by Judith Cutler

  The Mondiale would suit us nicely for a bit longer, we assured him. Tomorrow’s services apart – and he insisted he wanted to take those he was on the rota for – Theo wouldn’t countenance flitting off to St John’s Wood as long as George and Alison might need him. Head bowed, he had to accept Barney’s suggestion that it would be, to say the least, inappropriate to try to speak to Ted or Elaine until the police had charged them. Christian forgiveness was one thing; interfering with the processes of justice was another, particularly in connection with the death of Burble and the framing of Mazza. Having topped us up with more wine than we ever drank at lunchtime, Barney delivered us back to the Mondiale, where the police would contact us later.

  ‘He used to be a barrister,’ Theo said as we waved him off. ‘His wife was a chemist, but was made redundant at a shake-up at Pfizer’s. That’s why she breeds dogs. It’s a lovely family, but not restful.’

  And rest was clearly what he needed. He collapsed into a Merlot-fuelled sleep the moment we were in our room, not even stirring when Dave phoned. How were things?

  I gave him an edited version.

  ‘I’ll come straight over.’

  ‘Stay where you are. I’m just about to keel over and have a snooze. I’ll call you later.’

  Don Simpson looked as if he needed a snooze too. But there was a grim satisfaction to his smile as he ushered us into his office again.

  ‘We really are getting the star treatment today,’ Theo said. ‘We didn’t expect to see you again till the trial, Don.’

  ‘If I were fifteen years younger, you wouldn’t. The thrusting young Turks deal with their cases and delegate the rest. Though I told you I’m just one ant among many, I like to see a job through, and Dave would never stop sneering if I didn’t fill you in with all I know so far. And I have to take my hat off to you both: Theo for dragging Elaine clear, and you, Jodie – I didn’t know about this earlier – for dragging that pompous old guy out of Intensive Care. Ought to be on YouTube, that ought.’ He registered the expression on Theo’s face. ‘Hasn’t she told you yet? Here, sit and watch it while I make my caffeine fix.’ He turned his computer monitor so Theo could watch the whole incident – heavens, I was falling into police lingo now. I stood behind Theo to get a better view. We’d been remarkably foolhardy, with that syringe waving in front of our eyes. I thought it better to say nothing. So, it seemed, did Theo.

  Don plonked coffee mugs on the table. Espresso for him – no doubt he’d be working late tonight – and gentle lattes for us.

  He settled himself comfortably again.

  ‘Ted and Elaine, Mazza and Burble,’ I prompted him.

  ‘And you. Don’t forget they had a couple of attempts to shut you up too. Because I reckon it all started with your seeing stuff they didn’t want seen – these people building illicitly in the valley. An Eastern European gang, fronted by a couple of nice British Mr Bigs – as it happens, actors who were resting, as they call it. As you deduced, they were building what the Americans might call a facility – in fact, an underground depot to house stolen combine harvesters and so on. The project was pretty well self-funding – yes, all those JCBs your TV contact picked up, Jodie, busily harvesting cash machines.’ He paused to allow us to respond to his little joke.

  ‘Why did everything seem to centre on my wife, though? She never harmed anyone.’

  ‘I wouldn’t go that far,’ I admitted. ‘But I never knowingly interfered with these people. I went running, that’s all. Ah. Ted was very keen to find out my route, wasn’t he? And then when I became friends with Burble, who was well known for roaming round the countryside foraging for food and might blab—’

  ‘Worse than that, Jodie, I’m afraid. You gave Burble that camera. Clearly someone spotted him using it.’

  I clicked my fingers. ‘Mazza said something about his taking a whole series of photos of the same house until he was satisfied with the result. I never knew which house.’

  ‘Would you be surprised if I told you it was Vesey’s? Yes, the technical people have worked wonders with that memory card. The last photo was of Vesey emerging from his front door and shaking his fist. More important, Burble took at least thirty of the site. Someone spotted him – and obviously did more than shake his fist. Even though he knew he had to run away, he also knew the pictures he’d taken were important and made sure someone found them.’

  ‘Even though he must have been afraid he was going to die?’ My voice broke.

  ‘Yes. A brave kid. I for one will want to pay my respects at his funeral, Theo.’ He added, more quietly, ‘He had a record as long as your arm, you know. He’d have been behind bars sooner rather than later. And yet he found it in him to be heroic.’ He bowed his head as if before some mental cenotaph. ‘As for young Mazza, once he became your running partner he became a danger too. Framing him for the bike crimes, which were a sideline of one of the junior members of the gang, was the obvious ruse to get him out of the way. Thanks to you it didn’t. We’ve asked your friend Rosemary McVicar to check those bikes for Ted Vesey’s DNA, because we think he was responsible for stowing them at Mazza’s place.’

  I shook my head. ‘Ted would be an organizer; he’d not get his hands literally dirty, would he?’

  ‘I’m sure you’re right. He’s a man to delegate.’

  ‘Did he delegate the attack on poor George?’ Theo asked. ‘Because I can assure you that not many people even knew there was a safe in the church, let alone that someone was kneeling in the aisle trying to open it.’

  ‘And he was certainly the one who removed an envelope from it,’ I added. ‘What was in it, by the way?’

  He looked straight at me. ‘We’ve still not found it. Or any trace of it. We’ve not had a chance to question him yet, and I doubt if we will for a bit. He’s been kept in hospital for observation. He may have banged his head when you and Doctor Barnes floored him.’

  Theo went white. ‘You’re not thinking of charging them with attempted manslaughter, are you? They saved George’s life. If anyone’s to blame it’s you people for not having someone on guard.’

  Don shook a regretful head.

  ‘Don’t tell me,’ I snapped. ‘Budget cuts. Staffing cuts.’

  ‘Yes. We’re supposed to be maintaining front line policing. No damage to public service. Actually, I’m surprised we’re not conducting this discussion in Essex: we’ve now got a combined unit for dealing with serious crimes. It’s only because we thought this one was manageable that you’re sitting here with me.’

  ‘Isn’t that what people want? To be able to talk to a local man who knows the local problems?’

  Don spread his hands eloquently.

  I was aware that time was passing. ‘Elaine. How did she get involved? She’s a lovely, kind woman, the only friend I’ve got in the village. She’s important in the parish, a pillar of the WI, almost single-handedly responsible for saving the pub. What’s her Achilles heel?’

  Don snorted. ‘A heel of the other variety. A cad. A bounder. A very attractive man who met her online – God, don’t these people realize the dangers they’re exposing themselves to?’

  Theo nodded sagely, the old hypocrite. But then he looked at me and smiled. ‘I’ve never recovered,’ he said, taking my hand. ‘Even if I was supposed to be dating someone else. Long story, Don. A pint or two one evening, eh? When we both have an evening we’re not working, that is. But Elaine’s man?’

  ‘Wooed her. Won her. Took her off to faraway places. Introduced her to his friends. Then he cooled off. But he still had sufficient power over her for her to want to please him. Maybe she was a little afraid of him. Occasionally he’d ask her to do something – you know, make a phone call, take a photo, go and visit someone’s house, stay with them to keep them away from other more interesting things. But she, more than Vesey, is a victim in all this, I’d say. Even if she did make a couple of feeble attempts to run you down, Jodie. A pro would have made sure. And she can’t be very happy that one of her boyfriend
’s henchmen was under orders to slit her throat if Vesey didn’t kill off George.’

  I gripped my head to stop it spinning. ‘This isn’t making sense. Why does anyone on this earth want George dead? The poor man didn’t even know the envelope was there, let alone what was in it.’

  ‘What if George had opened the safe?’ Theo asked. ‘And found the envelope? And, since he knew nothing about it, popped it back in the safe only to ask Ted when he turned up. Maybe taunted him a bit. They loathed each other after all. Maybe Ted socked him but someone else turned up – you, for instance – before he could reopen the safe.’

  Maybe it was the coffee, maybe it was the last kick from the Merlot, but I was getting sick of all the ifs and maybes. ‘Talk to Elaine again,’ I said curtly, as if I was the other side of the desk. ‘And to Mazza. He handled the damned envelope more than I did. And kick Ted back into consciousness – we didn’t hit him for goodness’ sake, as the CCTV footage will show: I’ll bet he’s just playing for time.’

  ‘Let me talk to you first,’ Don said quietly. ‘You’ve got an image of the envelope on your camera. Have a look at it. Go on. What can you see?’

  ‘The longitudinal fold where Ted made it fit in a pocket. It’s a bit puckered round the edges. The seal’s not very secure – someone might have opened it and resealed it.’

  ‘Why on earth didn’t you challenge the bugger?’ Don asked, as if I was on his team.

  ‘No authority. He and George are in charge of the church,’ Theo said.

  ‘If someone had opened it before, that person might have been George,’ I said. ‘Don, you’ve only just taken on the case, but someone would know if there was anything untoward in his pockets, wouldn’t they?’

  ‘He was the victim, Jodie, so it’s possible his clothes are still in a paper bag back at the hospital.’ He reached for the phone.

  The call didn’t take long.

  ‘Fake Euros. Thousands in high value notes. Some more of our Bulgarian friends’ activities, no doubt. George only had a few in his pocket, shoved in anyhow, according to the staff who logged everything.’ Don reached not for the coffee but for a bottle of whisky. He touched his nose; no doubt this was strictly against every police regulation, but we all sank it without turning a hair. ‘So Ted is entrusted with them as samples, maybe – or even nicks them. He stows them where no one will think of looking, since no one even recollects the presence of a safe there until Jodie goes exploring. George realizes they’re not part of the church silver and is ready to take some.’

  ‘As evidence, if I know George,’ Theo said, a challenge in his voice and in his eye.

  ‘As evidence. We won’t know the conversation that took place until George comes round or Ted is cleared by the medics for questioning.’ He turned from us to his screen. ‘Ah. Latest updates: we’ve had news from our French colleagues that they’ve picked up your would-be workman, and we’ve also found the glass collector at the Goose that Laid; someone slipped him some cash to report back our conversation – someone being the same guy. Busy little bee.’ He leant back and counted on those slender fingers: ‘The tiddlers in this are under arrest and are likely to be denied bail. The bigger fish were picked up for their involvement in agricultural machinery theft and robbing post offices. They certainly won’t get bail. Incidentally, the fire service think accelerant started your blaze. At first they thought it might have been an electrical fault, since they say the wiring’s a disgrace, but they’ve found petrol. Asda, as it happens. More legwork for my team, but since we’ve got a fairly narrow range of suspects, that shouldn’t take long, and with luck one of them can be persuaded to confess. I’d call that a good day’s work. I’ll have a mound of paperwork to complete but that can wait till Monday. Time to go home, I’d say.’ He flushed brick red. ‘I’m really sorry, you’ve not got a home to go to, have you? It must have been bad seeing it burn before your eyes.’

  I could have said that the anonymous room at the Mondiale was more homely, that if I’d had a chance I’d have thrown petrol on the flames consuming the drab, constricting place, and that wherever Theo and I set up would become our real home. Kent, St John’s Wood, Birmingham – wherever he was called. Even, heaven help me, Lesser Hogben.

  But Theo was laughing quietly. ‘Don’t you think it’s rather appropriate, Don, for a rector to have an illuminated address?’