Another Good Killing: An exciting, fast-paced crime thriller (Detective John Marco crime thriller Book 2) (Detective Inspector Marco)

by Stephen Puleston

  From behind a large glass door the personal assistant I’d met at the bank emerged. A name badge dangled from a lanyard hanging around her neck. She wore a narrow pencil skirt, a crisp white blouse and neatly cut blond hair. Her high heels made her calves look lean and sculpted. Lydia gave her shoes a serious look.

  ‘Mr Dolman was intrigued by your request for a visit,’ the woman said, fishing for information.

  ‘Why are we meeting here?’ I asked.

  ‘We’re closing a big deal this morning.’ Her tone implied I shouldn’t ask any more.

  We walked towards the lift and I kept my eyes straight ahead but my nose was being assaulted by her perfume – citrus and fresh lemons. All of it reminded me of a holiday in Lucca and cycling along the city walls. And I decided then that I would take Dean there in the summer. Take time off. Do some well-overdue father-son bonding.

  She led us out of the lift and then through an open-plan office into a room away from the prying eyes of the staff. Tony Harper stood waiting for me and reached out a hand. His white shirt had a cut-away collar complemented by a navy tie that had red and purple stripes. The Dolmans and Charlotte Parkinson were sitting around a highly polished oak conference table.

  Charlotte smiled at me and another bank of expensive perfume invaded my personal space. This time it was sweet and sensuous and matched the wearer perfectly. It was like having a bath in strawberries and thick clotted cream.

  ‘What’s this about, Inspector?’ Troy Dolman started.

  Charlotte chipped in before he could continue what sounded like a tirade. ‘We’ve a lot of work to get through today. And as always time is against us. I do hope you understand.’ Her smile dimpled her cheeks and her eyes lit up. It had the desired result of making me feel warm and mellow inside. Just for moment, at least, until I looked over at Troy Dolman.

  Lydia had already sat down and I followed suit. A bottle of Ty Nant water was open on the table with cut-glass tumblers. This was a different legal world from the cramped chaotic offices of the lawyers on Cathedral Road who handled the purchase of my flat.

  ‘We have some intelligence that suggests there’ll be a protest or demonstration of some sort outside the bank on Friday.’

  Rex Dolman was the first to respond. ‘How did you find this out?’

  ‘We have our sources.’

  ‘Is that all?’ Troy Dolman now.

  ‘We suggest that it might be sensible for you to take some additional precautions. Perhaps warn your staff and arrange some additional security.’

  ‘Are we targeted as well?’ Harper said.

  ‘Your buildings are next to each other so it will be hard to avoid any attention from this group. These people are good at getting publicity so they’ll have tipped off the press.’

  Troy Dolman threw a large fountain pen with a mottled barrel onto the pile of papers in front of him and snorted. ‘Damn terrorists.’

  *

  I watched Terry’s back as he left the café after an ill-tempered meeting where he had repeated his demands that I help his girlfriend and I had replied equally forcefully that it was impossible. I sat finishing my Americano when the call arrived from Hannah Peters.

  ‘I’m sorry. I should have told you sooner…’

  Her voice trembled so I focused hard on what she was saying. I blanked out the noise from the café, my anticipation building. ‘I’ve got some papers belonging to Alan that you need to see.’

  I was on my feet, heading out of the café, my mobile still pinned to my ear.

  ‘I know I should have mentioned this earlier.’

  ‘For Christ sake, what are you talking about?’

  ‘I’m on my way to see you.’

  I drove back to Queen Street calling Lydia and yelling instructions for her to meet Hannah.

  In my haste I double-parked alongside one of the old pool cars next to the police station and then raced up to the Incident Room. Lydia was already waiting for me. ‘She’s in one of the conference rooms.’

  We made our way down through the building. I stopped before the door, and drew a hand over my hair. I could feel the sweat around my temples.

  Hannah sat hunched over the table, a weary look in her eyes. Her elbows pressed onto a buff folder that she scooped up and clutched firmly.

  I smiled. Then I stared at the folder in her hands. I pulled up a chair and Lydia did the same. ‘Hannah. You have something that you want to show us?’

  She nodded a tentative confirmation. ‘Alan gave me a file with some original papers.’ She put the folder on the desk. ‘He had been working with Matthew Dolman on plans to have the bank sold. Mr Dolman had signed a power of attorney in his favour in the week before he died.’

  Hannah composed herself, drew the chair nearer the table and then pushed the folder over towards me. ‘The power of attorney is in the papers as are the details of the people Matthew and Alan were dealing with.’

  I read the papers as Lydia asked her some more questions. ‘Why did you only mention this now?’

  ‘After the breakin I thought that something wasn’t right and that it must have been this power of attorney that the burglar wanted.’

  I sensed Lydia looking over at me as I flicked through the documents. It looked to be in standard legal language and then I found a sheet with contact details.

  ‘How much did you know about the sale of the bank?’ Lydia said.

  Hannah shrugged. ‘Troy Dolman was dead against it.’

  A frightened look reappeared on her face.

  ‘What had Alan and Matthew Dolman been doing?’

  ‘It’s all in there. Matthew had been negotiating with another bank to take them over. But Troy wasn’t happy. There was one meeting when I heard him shouting at his father.’ She shivered. ‘He had a hell of a temper.’

  Hannah sipped some water from a beaker that Lydia had pushed in her direction.

  ‘They were hoping to get the sale finalised quickly.’

  I scanned the papers. ‘There’s mention of a man called Fairbrother.’

  She nodded. ‘He was the agent acting for the other bank. It was all very confidential.’

  Then she said slowly, ‘I don’t feel safe any more, Inspector.’

  I looked up and saw the fear in her face.

  ‘I’m going away for a few days.’

  *

  ‘Is there enough to arrest him, boss?’

  Lydia sat in my office; the only piece of paper on my desk was the power of attorney and the papers that Hannah had given us. Contemplating the arrest of Troy Dolman needed careful thought. I could imagine the reaction from Cornock if I suggested it.

  ‘We know he has temper. And that there were blazing rows about the future of the bank. And he has a relationship with Youlden and he’s got free access to Turner’s office which accounts for there being no forced entry. He must have been searching for the power of attorney, hoping he could destroy it and prevent the sale of the bank.’

  ‘And when he cannot find it he kills Alan Turner?’ I sensed the scepticism in her voice.

  After the last meeting with the Dolman family, which had been stage-managed with such precision, it was clear that every future decision about the family was to be signed off by Cornock, the assistant chief constable, and then double-checked by the lawyers of the Crown Prosecution Service.

  I reached for the telephone. ‘We need to talk to Fairbrother first.’ I found the sheet with the details and then I dialled the number and waited. ‘I want to speak to Richard Fairbrother.’

  ‘Just a moment.’ The voice was silky.

  ‘Fairbrother.’

  ‘My name is Detective Inspector John Marco of the Wales Police Service. I’m investigating the deaths of Matthew Dolman and Alan Turner.’

  ‘How can I help?’

  I was expecting some surprise, not a business-like response.

  ‘I understand that you were involved in discussions over the sale of the bank?’

  ‘Yes. That’s correct.’<
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  ‘I was hoping that you might be able to give me some details.’

  ‘Of course.’

  Fairbrother took half an hour to outline the negotiations for the sale of the NBW to a German bank. I had been scribbling notes as he spoke and then when he had finished I asked. ‘What happens now?’

  ‘The discussions are ongoing with Tony Harper.’

  ‘Tony Harper?’ I could not hide the surprise in my voice.

  ‘He is acting as Mr Dolman’s executor.’

  Chapter 35

  By Wednesday Wyn and Jane had made little progress with assembling any meaningful evidence. A gentle despair had descended on the Incident Room. The French authorities had confirmed that a limited company registered in the Cayman Islands owned the flat in Nice and there was an annoying silence from the Australian authorities about Turner’s apartment.

  I returned to the Incident Room after a fractious meeting with Cornock where he point-blank refused to contemplate making any resources available for surveillance on Henson, Cleaver and Youlden.

  ‘I still think we should be keeping an eye on them,’ Lydia said.

  I nodded before pacing in front of the board.

  ‘They might meet together,’ she continued.

  It was frustrating knowing that without a full surveillance team there was nothing we could do. ‘The super won’t contemplate any surveillance. It’s not a “justifiable use” of resources.’

  Lydia frowned. ‘We could do it ourselves.’

  I looked over at her. I had seen that serious dedicated side to her before. Wyn and Jane had stopped working and they were waiting for me to reply. I looked back at the board and wondered if spending hours undertaking surveillance would give us anything valuable, but on the other hand we might, just might…

  ‘We could do the two nights before the demonstration,’ Jane said.

  Wyn was nodding as she continued.

  ‘There won’t be any overtime,’ I said, cursing myself as I sounded like an accountant. I glanced around the room, saw the acceptance of the position in their faces, and felt pleased that I could really rely on them.

  I sat down heavily and after an hour we had mapped out who was going where and when.

  ‘We do tonight and Thursday night only.’

  Lydia had been nodding her head appreciatively as I ran through the plans. ‘And if there’s nothing helpful coming from the surveillance then we go home.’

  I was going to take Henson’s place, Lydia Cleaver’s terrace and Wyn and Jane would sit outside Youlden’s home.

  By late in the evening I was tired and regretting my enthusiasm in believing that surveillance of this sort would be valuable. But sitting in the office trying to think strategically hadn’t worked. I found a place to park a little way down the street from Henson’s and conveniently there was a street light just outside that cast a weak shadow all over the small front patios of the houses nearby. It was quiet; a woman took a small dog for a brisk walk, talking to it continuously until it shat on the pavement. She looked down and then around and seeing no one in sight walked smartly away. I texted Jackie and she replied instantly telling me that Dean was much better. Then I sent a message to my mother and she replied too. I was getting to catch up on my family duties. I had no real understanding of what a normal father might be or what was expected of me. Being with Dean in hospital had made me realise how much I had missed being a father. And Jackie was treating me like a human being again and I wondered if that meant she might want to rekindle our relationship. In truth I really did not know how I felt about such a prospect.

  There was a shooting pain in the base of my back. Shifting my position didn’t help and a dull ache developed. I drank some lukewarm tea from a flask, chewed on a chocolate bar and smoked another cigarette. By midnight nothing had happened and lights in the various houses went off as the residents all went off to bed. I messaged the others who reported the same absence of activity so I texted them all to go home.

  The following night I had even less enthusiasm for the surveillance. The ache in the small of my back had moved to a spot at the top of my leg and no amount of moving my position was going to help. Lydia was the first to message me that evening. Nobody moving tonight.L And then Wyn sent a similar message from the car he was sharing with Jane. Youlden dead quiet. By ten o’clock there had been no visitors to any of the houses we were watching and, more than that, the streets were quieter than the night before. I was expecting a meeting in one of the houses to prepare, share plans for the destruction of Western civilisation.

  Half an hour later, I sent a message to them all to leave.

  Lydia was the last to reply – Might stay for half an hour.

  I replied. Don’t bother. Get home. Busy morning.

  Cornock had been right: it had been a waste of time but at least no additional resources had been wasted. Frustration dominated my thoughts as I pondered whether Henson was responsible. He was linked to Youlden who knew Troy Dolman, whose belligerence made him a natural suspect, and Mrs Dolman, from his time in the hostel. I still hadn’t dismissed the possibility that she was involved. I passed one of the delivery vans from Pizza House on the way home and I realised that having obvious suspects like George Stanway didn’t mean the case would be straightforward. I parked the car before walking over to the flat, ticking off my to-do list for tomorrow and hoping that I’d sleep.

  Chapter 36

  I looked out of my kitchen window. The city looked fresh and sanitised by the early-morning spring sunshine. It was early and I hadn’t slept well. I reached a hand to the small of my back where I could still feel a dull ache.

  Behind me, the toaster on the worktop popped out its contents. I found butter in the fridge and scraped a covering onto the evenly browned toast before piling on some jam just as the final drops of my espresso emerged from the coffee machine.

  I stepped back towards the window, eating my breakfast. There were blocks of flats everywhere. After the banking crisis when property prices collapsed many of the apartments had been left empty. And then the buy-to-let landlords stepped in and the properties were gradually snapped up. Blaming the bankers was simple, especially as the country had bailed them out and every week there was a headline about bankers’ bonuses.

  I reached for my mobile and tapped out a message to Jackie. How’s Dean? It was taking me some time to become accustomed to the domestic routine of thinking about my son every day. But the regular messaging was becoming natural and something that I looked forward to. I pulled on a brown jacket that complemented the dark jeans. I had checked first thing that the black brogues I had chosen were clean. After dragging a comb through my hair I left the flat. Jackie’s reply arrived when I pulled the door closed behind me. I smiled to myself as I read the text. Good night’s sleep. Much better.Jx.

  I drove into town and found a parking slot in a side street a little way down from the bank.

  Morning commuters snaked over the concrete, talking on mobiles and tapping on screens as I arrived in the square. I noticed Wyn walking up to me.

  ‘Good morning, sir. All quiet so far.’

  ‘Have you seen Jane or Lydia?’

  He shook his head. ‘I came straight here. I thought that would be best.’

  I nodded. Wyn could be too serious for his own good. We walked around the square, occasionally standing to let an office worker brush past us.

  Talking to Wyn while we paced around the concrete square waiting for something to happen made me feel old, older than I wanted to be. He was young and inexperienced. I could remember the detective inspector that I had worked with as a young constable. He was an ancient chain-smoking relic who had a deep cynicism about human nature and little patience with junior officers who made mistakes.

  I stopped and tapped out a text to Lydia. We carried on towards the entrance of the bank. I wasn’t certain what my strategy would be. Would we wait around all morning? Cornock would have questions about the proper use of resources if we did. The
same security guards were standing in the foyer of the main bank building. They gave us a brief nod when we entered and made for the main reception.

  We waited as the staff spoke in hushed tones on the telephone. Moments later the same personal assistant emerged from the lift and glided towards us.

  ‘Has there been any unusual activity this morning?’ I asked.

  ‘Nothing unusual at all, Inspector. Both Troy and Rex have been in since first thing.’

  A message reached my mobile and I dipped into my jacket pocket hoping it would be from Lydia. Jane’s name appeared apologising that she would be late. Then I tapped out another impatient message to Lydia. There was nothing further we could achieve so we headed towards the lawyers’ offices. Jane caught up with us as we approached their building.

  I still had no message from Lydia. I turned to Jane. ‘Have you seen Lydia this morning?’

  Jane shook her head. I wondered if she was unwell, but her lack of communication unsettled me. She could have been in contact somehow. I found my mobile and dialled her number but it went straight to voicemail.

  Then I heard a voice behind me and saw the familiar face of Tony Harper talking to a man dressed in an expensive-looking pinstripe suit. He was tall, six foot two at least, with broad shoulders and the build of a man who spent hours in the gym.

  ‘This is Ian Lewis, our Chief Executive,’ Harper said.

  Ian thrust a hand in my direction. ‘Good morning.’

  ‘Detective Inspector Marco.’ I extracted my fingers from a crushing handshake.

  ‘There’s been nothing unusual happening as yet,’ Ian added, looking out and through the expanse of glass at the front of the building.

  Harper glanced at his watch. ‘It’s early yet.’

  He was right. We exchanged small talk for a few minutes but I kept looking away, hoping to spot Lydia. I couldn’t stand still so I made my excuses and walked back outside with Jane and Wyn.

  I surveyed the office blocks surrounding the square, pondering what Henson might have planned.