Murder is a Tricky Business (DCI Cook Thriller Series Book 1)

by Phillip Strang

  ‘If they find out, it will kill them.’

  ‘I suppose you should have thought about that before you started selling yourself.’ He wasn’t sure if his comment had been over critical.

  ‘You’re right of course, but I needed to survive, ensure I passed my studies with honours. It all costs money, and my parents don’t have that sort of money.’

  ‘It’s history now. Anyway, we would not have met if you had been working in a café.’

  ‘At least, there has been one good thing to come out of it.’

  Farhan felt like leaning over the table and giving her a kiss. He decided that it was best if he did not. The future for them as a couple looked bleak. It was up to him to think clearly for both of them. She was obviously the better educated, but she was a woman. A woman who was to be outed as a prostitute. All that she had strived for, lost in an instance.

  They had offered two coffees. Farhan drank his, Aisha barely sipped at hers. He could see in her face the sign of worry. She said it was due to the pressure of work, a particularly challenging case involving a man accused of insider trading on the stock market.

  She had tried to explain the intricacies of the case, more as a diversion from the reason they were meeting. Something to do with the man’s position as the financial officer for a major insurance company in the city, subject to a takeover from a larger, more aggressive company. He knew which way it was going, how much the offer was going to be and how the share prices of both companies would be impacted. He had used his wife’s maiden name, through a shelf company located off-shore to buy and sell accordingly. He had netted over ten million dollars on the deal, and was just about to relocate to the Caribbean, when the Fraud Squad had picked him and his wife up at the airport.

  The wife had soon been released, but he had spent a few miserable days in custody, before being released on bail. It was Aisha’s first major case, although she was acting as a junior. It was a great compliment for her to be entrusted with the responsibility, but now it looked as if it was falling apart.

  ‘Aisha,’ Farhan had ordered two more coffees. ‘The only chance is if you disappear. Caroline’s being hassled now.’

  ‘Is that Olivia’s real name?’

  ‘Yes, but it’s best if you forget my verbal slip.’

  ‘I will.’

  ‘We should be meeting at the police station.’ Farhan had run it past Isaac first, told him the approach he was going to take. Isaac had advised him to take great care and not to go rushing off to a hotel room with her. Farhan had stated that he would be careful, but sitting with Aisha now, he wanted to forget his promise. He had to keep reminding himself that he was a serving policeman on duty, and she was a witness, not a lover, not someone he loved. He could not help the emotion. He realised it was irrational, but he could not stop it, did not want to stop.

  ‘Is there no hope?’ she asked.

  ‘If they can find Olivia, they can find you.’

  ‘But how? You said that Marion Robertson had given Olivia’s phone number to the two men who had visited her, but she didn’t have mine.’

  ‘That’s true. Are you certain they are looking for you?’

  ‘I’m pretty certain, but how?’

  ‘Who would know where you work, where you live?’

  ‘Only you.’

  ‘I’ve kept it to myself. I received a severe dressing down from my boss for keeping you and Olivia secret.’

  ‘If there’s a court case, will I be required to be a witness?’

  ‘You’re the lawyer, what do you reckon?’

  ‘It will depend on whether he pleads guilty or not?’

  ‘Or she?’ Farhan reminded her.

  ‘Could it be a she?’ she asked.

  ‘Why not? The man was found naked. From what we know, he was certainly heterosexual.’

  ‘Perversely so,’ she replied. Farhan did not want to know the details on a personal basis. On a professional basis, he had to ask.

  ‘I must ask what you mean by that comment. Officially, unfortunately.’

  ‘Can’t you forget what I just said. I don’t want to think back to that night.’

  ‘Give me a generalisation, then.’ He realised that maybe it was not relevant. If it became so, he would persevere with the question at a later time.

  ‘He wanted us to put on a show first, toys, that sort of thing.’ She kept her head low, avoided eye contact.

  ‘We’ll leave it at that.’ He did not want to hear more.

  ‘What must I do?’ she asked.

  ‘Ideally, you should leave immediately.’

  ‘The country?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I can’t do that.’

  ‘You better let me know who’s on to you. Every time you’re contacted, every time there’s a silent voice on the end of a phone line, let me know. We’ll decide as it occurs. If I tell you the situation is impossible, then you must leave immediately. Is that clear?’

  Aisha finally drank her coffee, the second cup at least, and left. She could not resist the opportunity to kiss him before she walked out the door. Farhan hoped she would be safe.

  Chapter 32

  Late afternoon the next day and all three were in the office. Wendy had finally got the message to not keep moving Farhan’s desk; not the other one about exhaling stale cigarette smoke over the other two.

  She should have taken the hint with the window to the rear of Isaac being open, even though it was cold outside. She preferred a room to be warm and cosy, just like Station Master Broughton’s office out at Paddington Station, not like Isaac and Farhan’s, bare as it was, unwelcoming, unhomely. It was a bachelor’s pad, although she knew Farhan was married, had wife problems, and Isaac was clearly single, but then she couldn’t blame him.

  A good-looking man, plenty of women, she thought. Twenty years ago, I would have made a play for him myself.

  It was Isaac who brought their meeting to order. ‘Wendy, can you update us, please.’

  Before she replied, Isaac leant over and closed the window.

  ‘The person she met is almost certainly a friend.’

  ‘You’ve had some luck?’ Farhan said. Wendy noticed the look of the man had taken a turn for the worse since she had last seen him. He looked worried, and his clothes looked as though they could do with a good iron.

  The look of a recently separated man, she thought. She reflected to ten years previous, during a rough patch in her marriage when she had moved out of the matrimonial home. It had only been for three weeks, before he apologised and she had forgiven him. She nearly left again on entering the front door of the house. The dirty dishes in the kitchen sink was disgusting, the waste paper bin was overflowing, the washing machine refused to work due to severe overloading and the place stank.

  It had taken her two days to clean up the mess, two days when she could have easily have walked out of the door again. She finally calmed down, but the anger remained for months, tenuous months, where they barely spoke to each other.

  ‘Luck! Good old-fashioned police work. Out on the street, talking to people.’ She could sometimes be acerbic. How many times, when she had found a missing person had she heard the comment ‘Luck’ mentioned.

  It wasn’t luck that had found the café; it was a case of placing herself in the right environment. The rain had helped and directed her towards the café, but if it had not, she would have kept walking the area, asking questions. Eventually, she would have stumbled upon the waitress, although it could have been days, maybe weeks. She was pleased it had been sooner rather than later as her arthritis was giving her trouble, even though she had not walked far the previous day.

  Farhan, feeling suitably admonished, made tea for everyone: Isaac, no sugar. Wendy, two.

  ‘Wendy, please continue,’ Isaac said. He had worked with her before, knew she could be a bit touchy - the reason why he had not broached the subject of the stale cigarette smoke.

  He was aware that it would be a lecture about civil lib
erties, freedom for a person to decide as to whether they were damaging their health or not.

  ‘She knew the person she met,’ Wendy said. ‘The waitress confirmed that they were friendly.’

  ‘From your description, there can only be one person,’ Isaac replied. She had phoned in a brief report the previous day. ‘Farhan, would you agree?’

  ‘You’ve had more dealings with him, but why?’

  ‘That’s the question? He knows that obstructing the course of justice, especially in a murder investigation is a serious offence. His fancy Queen’s Counsel will not be able to protect him.’

  ‘I’ve not met Richard Williams. Is he the sort of person to risk imprisonment?’ Wendy asked.

  ‘Not at all,’ Isaac replied. ‘He’s a sharp operator. If he is protecting Marjorie Frobisher, there must be a reason.’

  ‘But meeting in London? Surely, they realised the possibility of being seen. We’re not the only ones looking for her,’ Farhan speculated.

  ‘Maybe they’re not thinking straight. Maybe the woman is irrational. The waitress said she didn’t say much. Williams may have been compromised into helping.’

  ‘I agree with Wendy,’ Isaac said. ‘We’re aware of the special relationship between the two of them.’

  ‘Enough for him to risk a prison term?’ Farhan asked. He noticed that Wendy had gently eased her desk towards his; he said nothing.

  ‘It’s probable,’ Isaac said. ‘Williams told me they lived together many years before. If he’s helping, then, it must be more than that.’

  ‘It’s up to you, Isaac,’ Farhan said.

  ‘I need to go and see him. It may help if Wendy keeps checking, tries to find out where she is.’

  ‘I’ll start on it tomorrow,’ Wendy said, glad to be out of the office again. She only hoped a long soak in a warm bath and some medicine would reduce the pain in her legs.

  ***

  Isaac felt his time the following morning would be best spent with Richard Goddard. Isaac had set up the meeting for nine o’clock. He sensed that his superior officer was not looking forward to a visit, but it was important.

  Nine a.m. prompt and Isaac was outside his senior’s office. Ten minutes later, he appeared. For a man who was a stickler for punctuality, it seemed odd to Isaac. He chose to make no comment.

  ‘What is it, Isaac?’ There had been none of the customary ‘sit down for a chat’ repartee and harmless banter. Isaac was disturbed. He had not seen his boss like this before, and they had worked together for some years.

  ‘Marjorie Frobisher.’

  ‘Have you found her?’

  ‘We think she’s alive.’

  ‘But have you found her?’

  ‘Not yet. Soon, I imagine.’

  ‘It would have been best if she had stayed missing. Isaac; it’s become complicated.’

  ‘I can tell that from your manner today.’

  ‘I’m sorry, but this has taken on another dimension.’

  ‘What can you tell me?’ Isaac assumed he would not receive a clear answer.

  ‘I’m still not aware of all the facts, probably no more than you.’

  Isaac chose another line of questioning. ‘Is there anyone else looking for her currently?’

  ‘Why do you ask? You and DI Ahmed had people following you at one time. Is that still occurring?’

  ‘We’ve not seen them for some time, but I still feel they’re watching us.’

  ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘I suspect someone’s been planted.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I suspect a woman working with Richard Williams may be more than she seems.’

  ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘She’s smarter than she pretends to be; definitely not the sort of woman Williams would normally employ.’

  ‘Attractive?’

  ‘Very.’

  ‘There’s your answer. He chooses them attractive, easy to lay. That’s what your reports have indicated.’

  ‘She doesn’t seem the type that would be an easy lay, certainly not for Williams.’

  ‘Is he sleeping with her?’

  ‘Apparently. She gave him a cast-iron alibi when Sally Jenkins was murdered.’

  ‘And you think she’s a plant? Do you fancy her?’

  ‘A plant, it’s possible. Fancy her? I suppose I do, but I’ve kept my distance.’

  ‘Are you still protecting that other woman?’

  ‘If you mean Jess O’Neill, I’ve kept my distance, at least until this case is resolved.’

  ‘Make sure it stays that way. This is becoming too complicated, and no one knows why.’

  Isaac still felt that his boss knew more than he did. It seemed critical for him and Farhan to know as much, but how? If their boss did not want to tell, there wasn’t much that he could do to prise it out of him. He felt the need to try.

  ‘Sir, I need to know. We’re chasing around after a woman who is directly or indirectly related to the death of two people. What if there is another murder? A murder we could have prevented with additional knowledge.’

  ‘I understand what you’re saying.’’

  ‘We need to meet Angus MacTavish,’ Isaac said.

  The detective superintendent quickly exited the office and made a phone call.

  ‘Midday at his office,’ he said on his return. ‘If he tries to talk you down, stand your ground.’

  ‘I believe I can handle him,’ Isaac replied.

  ***

  Wendy, before she commenced the search for the missing woman in London, felt the need to visit the office at Challis Street. It was empty. Isaac, she knew was meeting with Detective Superintendent Goddard. Farhan, she had no idea where he had gone. She took the opportunity to make a strong cup of tea, extra sugar and to raid the biscuit jar. As no one was around, she opened the window and lit a cigarette, careful to ensure the smoke went out the window as well as the ash. She vowed to cut down.

  There were a few phone calls to make, a few enquiries to make. There was no reason in retracing her steps of the previous day, and besides the warm bath had done little to ease her pains. Another six months and she would have to retire, take a reduced pension. The mind was willing; the body was not. They would have found her an office position, but she couldn’t see herself lasting for more than a few weeks.

  The cigarette dispensed with, she phoned Bridget Halloran. She knew she would be able to assist.

  ‘I need to find someone,’ Wendy said. Bridget was pleased to see her.

  ‘The someone has a name?’ Always available for a gossip, Bridget knew the importance of official police business.

  ‘Marjorie Frobisher.’

  ‘So what did you find out?’

  ‘She met someone, a friend. Someone we know. We need to find where he may have taken her?’

  ‘Couldn’t you just ask him?’

  ‘DCI Cook will deal with that, but the situation is complicated.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Bridget asked. It wasn’t necessary for her to know, but Wendy had reasoned that she had gone out of her way to assist, and besides she was a friend who she trusted.

  ‘We need to find her before other people do?’

  ‘What if they find her?’

  ‘We’re not sure. She could disappear again.’

  ‘And not come back this time?’

  ‘That’s a possibility.’

  ‘Then for all our sakes, we better find her first.’

  ‘Strictest confidence.’

  ‘You can trust me, you know that,’ Bridget replied.

  ‘I know. I just had to say it, though.’

  ***

  It came as a complete surprise as to how agreeable Angus MacTavish was when he met Isaac. Richard Goddard had expected him to be gruff, unpleasant and here was the firm handshake, pat on the shoulder, and ‘good to meet you.’

  Mrs Gregory had dealt with the tea and cakes. She took a shine to Isaac as well.

  With all three men sea
ted comfortably and Mrs Gregory in the other room, Angus MacTavish spoke. ‘DCI Cook, you want to know about Marjorie Frobisher.’

  ‘Yes, Sir.’

  ‘You realise that Detective Superintendent Goddard and I have met several times to discuss this matter.’

  ‘So I believe.’

  ‘DCI Cook, are you aware of a child?’ MacTavish asked?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And how important it is that the child does not find out who the mother is?’

  ‘As well as the father?’ Richard Goddard said.

  ‘Detective Superintendent Goddard is right,’ MacTavish said. ‘In fact, the father is more important than the mother.’

  ‘Who is the father?’ Isaac asked.

  ‘That’s the problem. I just don’t know.’

  ‘You have a shrewd idea.’

  ‘That’s all I have. I know that Detective Superintendent Goddard thinks it’s the Prime Minister.’

  ‘Could it be someone else?’

  ‘It’s possible.’

  ‘It may help if I have some names,’ Isaac said. ‘We’re chasing shadows, coming up with blanks at the present moment.’

  ‘Tell me what you’ve got. How about the two murders? Any leads there?’ MacTavish asked.

  ‘We know how they died, but why is unclear?’

  ‘Tied in with this damn woman’s disappearance?’

  ‘Circumstantial,’ Isaac said, ‘but failing any other motives, it seems more than likely. Charles Sutherland was threatening to say something and Sally Jenkins had a tendency to listen at keyholes.’

  ‘They may have been eliminated because someone thought they did,’ MacTavish said.

  ‘Someone killed them purely on the off-chance?’ Richard Goddard asked, anxious to remain vital to the meeting. He had seen it before. Take DCI Isaac Cook, the tall, attractive and very black policeman along to meet someone important and they would be immediately charmed by him, while he, the more senior of the two, a dour white man would be left floundering. Still, he was pleased that Angus MacTavish was opening up, something he had not done with him.