Gina Powell shuffled uneasily in her seat. ‘I had hoped you would be coming with more positive information than the need to ask me more questions; what on earth can I add to what’s already been said?’
Matt stepped forward. ‘Let me bring you up to speed Mrs. Powell; new evidence has come to light that we need to discuss with you. There appears to be a revenge element to the deaths of both your husband and the other unfortunate victim, Roger Taylor. We believe that both men were targeted by an aggrieved husband or lover. Our enquiries now lead us to believe that your husband was conducting an affair with an as yet unknown woman whilst he was away on business in the Midland’s area. This has not been a one night stand but has been going on for a number of months. Had you seen any change in your husband’s behaviour? Had there been any deterioration in your relationship in the weeks or months leading up to his death? Anything that now with some hindsight, would shed some light on his behaviour?’
Gina Powell was taken aback. She looked down at her fingers and stroked her nails as she visibly attempted to rein in her anger. Eventually she spoke. ‘The other detectives let me know in no uncertain terms that my husband was a drug dealer who used the cover of his job to peddle drugs around the country, and his death was the result of a deal going bad. A contract killing is how they put it; and what’s more they were absolutely sure that that is what had gone on. Now you have the temerity to tell me that my husband was a philandering, whoring individual who got his just desserts. Forgive me detective if I seem more than just a little rattled by your comments.’
Orla took the opportunity to diffuse the situation. ‘Mrs. Powell . . . Gina . . . there is no easy way that we can approach this situation. This must be a very painful experience for you having lost your husband in the most horrendous way, to have people like us trying to pry into your private life. I wish that there was another way of doing it, but there isn't. We need to cover all avenues if we are to apprehend those responsible. Would it come as a complete surprise for you to learn that your husband, each time he was away on business, would be spending the night with another woman?’
As the words hit home, Gina Powell lost her composure. She wiped the tears from her eyes and began to relate how her suspicions had been raised. ‘I had suspected for some time that things were not as they seemed. He had lost interest in me a long time ago and to be quite honest, it was a bit of a relief not to have to go through the act of making love, because that’s what it had become, an act! I thought there might be another woman involved and I even challenged him on one occasion, but of course he denied it. We never spoke of it again. He was always too busy; if he wasn’t at work, he would be on the golf course. We weren’t able to have children; maybe it would have been different if we had. My children are actually my cats,’ and she rose from her chair and lifted a mounted photo from the side table. ‘These are my two babies,’ and she proudly displayed the photograph of herself holding two Persian cats, one under each arm. A silver trophy was positioned in front of them; she wore a broad smile.
‘Lovely picture.’ . . . Orla handed the photo back. ‘Did your husband enjoy the cats?’
‘Oh, gosh no; he hated them. He said he was allergic to them, well he would wouldn’t he; just because they slept on the bed. He used that as an excuse to sleep in the back room.’
‘If your husband detested cats why did he have a picture of one stuck to his windscreen?’
‘The other detective asked me that, but I can only tell you what I told him; I have no idea. I didn’t even know it was there, you see I never went anywhere in his car. I have my own. I travel to shows all over the country and it’s all kitted out to carry my cats. Sorry, no pun intended.’ Her face attempted a smile that appeared as a twisted snarl. ‘But they must have their creature comforts mustn’t they?’
Matt’s frustration was showing, enough of the bloody cats. ‘So Mrs. Powell, I take it you have sorted through your husband’s possessions. Have you found anything that could give us a lead as to who this errant woman could have been? Any letters, cards, photos, memento’s, anything that could have come from or been purchased for another woman?’
She replied without hesitation. ‘No, I’m sorry . . . nothing . . . and to be honest once I was over the shock and once he had been put to rest, I had someone come in to take everything away. I just didn’t want to be reminded. It was just too painful.’
Matt fought back the urge to say something disparaging; he just had one more question. ‘Do you know where he stayed when he was away in the Midland’s area?’
‘No he never kept receipts. His company gave him a cash allowance and as long as he kept underneath that amount he stayed and ate wherever he chose, that’s all I know.’
‘Mrs. Powell thanks for your time. We will keep you informed of our progress. Detective Graham will be available on this number.’ Matt handed her a card. ‘If you should remember something that you think will be of help to us, please call . . . Thank you again.’
Orla smiled sweetly, as she stepped through the doorway. ‘What a bitch!’
Matt’s response was equally cutting. ‘If I was married to that, I’d also be playing away!’
‘The next call will bring us something Matt, I can feel it.’
‘I don’t share your optimism, but you’re right, let’s get going. What’s the address?’
‘Paddock Way, Chertsey!’ Matt punched it into the sat nav. ‘It’s giving us thirty one miles . . . forty six minutes; let’s go!’
Chapter 17
The drive was uneventful; Orla had drifted off but stirred as she heard the handbrake clicking on. Matt had found a cosy looking café and they ran for the door, trying to escape the drenching rain. The fresh coffee aroma aroused their senses and they consumed their drinks and scones without as much as a word being spoken.
‘Right, now I’m ready!’ Matt adjusted his tie and got a satisfied nod from Orla as she checked the straightness. He was smiling now. ‘Your optimism is rubbing off on me. Be on your guard and don’t miss a trick and if you think your questions are going to upset her, ask them anyway. This is our last chance to get something from these people.’
‘Aye aye captain.’ Her mock salute was ignored.
Paddock Drive was a pleasant enough road. Most of the houses had their own drive so parking off road was a bonus. ‘It’s a bit urban; I thought Surrey would be a little more rustic!’ Orla screwed up her nose as she spoke.
‘You’ve been spoilt, coming from Ireland. What did you expect, a cow on every corner?’
‘Ha ha! . . . Look we’re here!’A short drive led up to the semi-detached house and they rolled to a halt close to the front porch.
‘Just take a pocket notebook Orla. I don’t want us to appear to be too officious.’
‘Since I spoke with her, shall I make the introductions?’ Matt nodded.
A porch covered the glass front door and as they stepped under cover, the door opened. ‘We saw you coming up the drive and didn’t want you to get too wet. Come straight in; don’t worry about your feet, it’s only water. You must be . . . ?’
‘Detective Graham, and this is Detective Inspector Black.’
Matt held out his hand. ‘Pleased to meet you Mrs. Taylor.’
She delicately took his hand, backing away as she did so, her diminutive form almost cowering. ‘I wish I could say the same,’ and she cast her eyes downwards.
‘I understand how you must feel.’
She looked up at him sternly. ‘I don’t think you do. You might think you do but believe me you have no idea what it feels like to have your whole life ripped apart in an instant. All the hopes and dreams you had for your family destroyed by some faceless lowlife. No you have no idea!’
A shrill, young voice flew across the room. ‘Have you found him? This person who killed my Dad?’ A teenage girl, curled up on a sofa, looked accusingly across the room at the detectives.
‘Megan, please! I’m sure the detectives will tell us all they know in
due course; just be patient. I’m sorry detective, my daughter was very close to her father and it will take her some time to adjust to life without him.’
‘You make it sound so clinical Mum . . . I’ll never get over it . . . never!’
Megan buried her head in a cushion, her hand covering her eyes; she was crying softly.
‘She’s been a lot better lately but your coming today has not helped the situation . . . brought it all back. Well what have you come to tell me?’
Orla took a deep breath. ‘Well firstly, DI Black has taken over the investigation and has been familiarising himself with all the details that we have to hand. Certain things have come to light that have moved us in a different direction from when you were last spoken to. We need to talk to you on some sensitive issues: I think it would be better if Megan perhaps left us for a short while!’ Orla looked appealingly in Megan’s direction hoping for a compliant response.
‘No Mom I’m staying!’
Ruth Taylor looked to Orla, a hang dog expression on her face. ‘From the intonation in your voice, I suspect you have some information that is perhaps of a sexual nature. If it concerns my husband’s infidelity, then I have no problem with Megan remaining. In fact it was Megan who informed me two or three years ago, that Roger was involving himself with other women. Although she is only fifteen, she’s fifteen going on fifty!’ She cast a glance in Megan’s direction and they exchanged a trusting smile.
Matt had a question. ‘Your husband and the other victim, Jeremy Powell, were both sharing a relationship with an as yet, unknown woman. This has been going on for at least eight months prior to their deaths. We have phone records dating back that far which have both your husband and the other victim, exchanging messages with this woman on a weekly basis. You say that you were aware of your husband’s infidelity! Would it include this particular dalliance?’
‘Oh no! I had no idea that he was seeing someone on a regular basis.’ Ruth Taylor hesitated before continuing. . . . ‘Inspector, you mentioned the other victim: but what about the man that was killed recently? The newspapers said that he was the third man to be killed by this same person. You don’t appear to be including him; why not?’
‘You are quite right Mrs. Taylor, there is a third victim and although connected, we feel that the reason for his death was for another reason entirely.’
‘Oh I see! . . . I think.’ And she sat back looking a tad pensive. ‘Inspector my husband was a handsome man and on top of that, a hell of a flirt. I knew early on in our marriage that he had a wandering eye, but we had a very open marriage and I eventually accepted that if we were going to stay married, I would have to let him roam . . . a little. It was just a release for him. These women never meant anything to him, and he always came home . . . so you see, I’m not surprised that he was having a bit of fun here and there.’
‘Well I hear what you say but I think that it was this “bit of fun” that cost him his life. We believe that a jealous husband must have discovered these affairs and decided to serve his own form of retribution.’
‘Oh my God! . . . surely not?’ Ruth Taylor looked across at her daughter.
‘Mom, it’s not your fault. As much as I loved Dad, if you had tried to stop him, he would have left.’
‘I know . . . I know’ . . . and she stifled a sob. ‘So what do you want from us?’ She looked up, her face pallid . . . eyes searching for an answer.
Orla spoke. ‘We desperately need to locate this woman. Do you have any idea where your husband would regularly spend his nights away, particularly Thursdays? It was this day that he spent in the Midland’s area and it was on this day that he was lured to his death.’
‘He never told me where he was going and I never asked. I know he went up to Solihull, because that’s where his head office was located . . . in the Blythe Business Park; but I suppose you know that?’
‘Yes, all his colleagues have been questioned at length but he kept this rendezvous to himself. We have checked all of the places that both men were known to frequent on their day to day work schedules and there is not one common point at which they could have met each other and therefore met this “lady”. This leads us to believe she may have worked in a pub, fast food outlet or even a hotel or B&B. Neither man returned expense claims that actually listed where they stayed overnight, so you see, our task at trying to find this woman is made all the more difficult.’
‘Well your detectives and their team virtually ransacked our house and as far as I know, never came up with anything; mind you they weren’t looking for a woman’s name.’
Matt was thoughtful and spoke quietly, turning things over in his mind as he spoke. ‘At that time they weren’t looking specifically for a woman but they were looking for anything. Any name or piece of paper that could have been incriminating would have been logged; but they found nothing!’
‘I accept that my husband was unfaithful, but he didn’t deserve to die like that, did he?’ Ruth Taylor looked up, her face looking for an answer, some comfort, anything!
‘Absolutely not Mrs. Taylor.’ Orla moved forward and stooped down to take hold of her trembling hand. ‘We won’t stop until we have the person or persons locked away for good, I can promise you that!’
‘You mean so we can get some closure.’
Orla hesitated, ‘Well . . . Yes.’
‘It’s just a word my dear; I know you mean well, but even if you catch this person and put him away for the handful of years that they call life, we will never have closure. We have got to struggle for the rest of our lives not just without a husband or,’ she looked across at her daughter, ‘or a father, but without the income that we need to hold our lives together.’
There followed a few seconds of uneasy silence each one waiting for the other to speak.
‘You have a son?’
‘Yes detective.’ Ruth Taylor’s face eased as she looked up at Matt. ‘His name is Peter . . . he’s 22 now. He is a wonderful lad, doing very well, training to be an Estate Agent. He has still a few exams to sit but he is now working full time for an agency down the road. He has handled the situation better than Megan, but then he didn’t get on that well with Roger. I know they frequently had words, mostly about the sort of girls that Peter was seeing, but Peter knew of Roger’s reputation with the ladies, so as you can imagine they usually ended up shouting at each other. It was very upsetting, so they rarely spoke in any depth.’
It was time to go. There was nothing more to be gained from this household. Matt motioned his intention to Orla and she nodded back. They promised to update Ruth Taylor on any developments and were soon back in the car.
Matt was angry. ‘We didn’t get a lot from that.’
‘Apart from the lecture, no we didn’t.’ Orla’s comment raised a snort in response. ‘But that was all.’
The narrow driveway had Matt’s attention focused on the wing mirrors as he slowly reversed the car towards the road. A soft toot on a car horn had him look up into his rear view mirror. A car had begun to turn into the drive but halted seeing that the way was blocked. It reversed quickly allowing Matt to complete his manoeuvre. He looked across and made eye contact with a fresh faced young man. They acknowledged each other with a smile and a raised hand gesture.
‘That must be Peter!’
‘I’m sure you’re right Orla but I don’t think there is any point in stopping. I looked at the notes taken previously and they reflect what the mother had said; they didn’t talk a lot so he wouldn’t have been privy to any of his Dad’s liaisons.’
‘No you’re probably right.’ She looked across at him, his glum face had returned. Mine is probably looking pretty much the same! She was thinking hard: nothing much was coming to the fore.
‘Orla!’ . . . A bright voice startled her. ‘I just want you to know that it’s been an absolute pleasure working with you!’
She looked to see something of a rarity; a smiling Matt Black. ‘You sound like it’s over?’
He l
aughed out loud. ‘Well when we eventually put a progress report in front of Janet Warley, I think we will both be looking for new careers.’ He was laughing out loud now. She had never seen this side to him before and was a little unsure how to play it. She started to laugh . . . a nervous laugh at first but in no time they were both giving it their all. She could feel the tears starting to mess up her face and dabbed them softly with a tissue.
‘Have you got one for me?’ Matt held out his hand; he was still chuckling. ‘You know Orla, you can only do so much. If the evidence isn’t there, you can’t make it up and well, tomorrow’s another day. We’ll look over the evidence again for what it’s worth and just put off speaking to “you know who” for as long as we can.’
She looked across at him, happy to be sharing his problems. ‘Agreed! . . . I don’t know about you but I’m starving! There’s quite a nice pub close to home; I’ll treat you to a meal before you drop me off.’
‘That sounds great. Let’s finish on a high note!’ A talk about MP’s expenses on radio four had them engrossed for much of the trip and they were back in familiar territory by six o’clock.
‘Here you are, “The Herons Nest”. Have you been here before?’
‘Passed it a million times; but no!’
They had their choice of tables and settled for a cosy corner. The comfort from the padded seats had them both closing their eyes, and they sat quietly for a few minutes with soft smiles sitting on their faces.
The waitress waited, pen in hand. They both settled for Sirloin steaks; medium with French Fries.
‘What would you like to drink Matt?’
‘I’m driving. I’ll just have a coke.’
‘And I'll have a pint of Guinness thanks.’ The waitress nodded and with a smile, made off towards the kitchen.
‘Wouldn’t have taken you for a Guinness drinker!’
‘And why not? Too delicate a flower?’ Orla fluttered her eyelids.
‘Something like that.’
‘Would you have me sipping a Pimm’s . . . something with an umbrella sticking out of it?’
A Killer's Calling: Incite to Murder 1 Page 7
