Vogel nodded. ‘Yes, boss,’ he said.
He actually quite liked it when Nobby Clarke was in full flow, although, of course, he would never admit it to her.
‘Right, so we have a team on door-to-door, and we’re getting the closed-circuit TV footage. The security here is pretty good, as you would expect. It would be damned difficult to break in, and, in any case, there is no indication of forced entry. Almost certainly Bella Fairbrother let her murderer into her apartment of her own free will, which indicates that she knew him – or her.’
Vogel nodded, a tad impatiently. He had worked that out straight away.
‘Now, concerning the CCTV, as soon as we’ve found any shots of our man, or woman, I’ll let you know,’ Clarke continued. ‘There must surely be something, and we should get to it fairly quickly. We already have a fix on the time Bella Fairbrother entered the underground car park here, and we know what time you and Saslow arrived, so that narrows things down nicely. We have only a relatively short window during which our killer must have made his appearance.’
‘How short?’ asked Vogel abruptly.
‘Ah yes,’ responded the superintendent. ‘Bella arrived in the car park at 1.37 p.m., less than two hours before you and Saslow got there, so—’
Clarke was interrupted by the ring of her phone. She took the call at once, without apology.
‘Right,’ she said. ‘Ummm. Well, I would have expected that. But at least we’ve got him on film. Yes, please send the footage to my phone straightaway.’
She turned her attention back to Vogel and Saslow. ‘We have footage of a male who used the intercom system to gain entry to Bella Fairbrother’s flat at 2.25 p.m.,’ she said.
Vogel felt his stomach lurch. That almost certainly meant that Bella was still alive less than an hour before he and Saslow arrived at her apartment, and only fifteen minutes or so before he first called her to say they were on the way. His assessment of the situation, whilst still standing in her apartment looking down at her dead body, had been quite correct. If he had somehow managed to arrange his meeting with Bella earlier in the day he may well have saved her life. But he hadn’t done so. Bella Fairbrother was dead. And he might never know now what she had been planning to tell him. That could easily have died with her.
Nobby Clarke glanced up at Vogel. ‘You weren’t to know, David, you couldn’t possibly have known,’ she said, seemingly aware of his thoughts without him even having to voice them.
‘No, of course not, boss,’ Vogel replied quickly.
But they were empty words. He felt he had let Bella Fairbrother down, and he knew that he always would. The likelihood of Bella herself being involved in whatever skulduggery had now led to four deaths, including her own, made no difference at all to his feelings on the matter.
‘Right,’ Clarke continued, as if that brief exchange hadn’t happened. ‘That’s the good news. The bad news is that he’s made sure its damned near impossible to identify him. No surprise there, though …’
Nobby’s phone pinged.
‘That’ll be the CCTV footage,’ she said.
The three of them poured over the screen. A figure wearing a dark-coloured, hooded raincoat stood in the doorway of Bella’s apartment block. The hood was up, and he kept his head down. He was wearing gloves. There was no clear shot of his face. He’d made sure of that. He had clearly worked out where the cameras were situated and ensured that his face was turned away throughout.
Nobby played the thirty seconds or so of film twice. It was Saslow who spoke first.
‘You know what,’ she said. ‘We can’t even be absolutely sure it’s a man. Not from that.’
‘Well, if it’s a woman she’s unusually broadly built,’ said Nobby. ‘Anyway, it just looks like a man, doesn’t it? I can’t quite explain …’
‘I know, I agree absolutely,’ said Saslow. ‘Moves like a man, too. I only meant, well, the footage is so inconclusive—’
‘Would you play it one more time, Nobby?’ Vogel interrupted, remembering for once to address the superintendent in her preferred way, even though she’d so far been too focused on the case that afternoon to correct him.
Clarke played it.
Vogel watched carefully. There was something familiar about the body language of the visitor who had almost certainly been Bella Fairbrother’s killer, but Vogel couldn’t quite place it.
‘I’ll send it on to you, Vogel,’ said Nobby. ‘And unless there’s anything else you want to do here, I reckon you should get back to Somerset and follow up on any leads from down there.’
‘I’ve been trying to get in touch with Bella’s brother, Freddie Fairbrother, he was supposed to be calling me, but he hasn’t, and no answer from his mobile,’ said Vogel. ‘I’m pretty sure he’s in the country by now. He has to be told, obviously. But he also needs to be interviewed, which is something I would like to do personally, wherever he is. I don’t even know if he and Bella have met at all since their father’s death. He could have all kinds of relevant information. And he might or might not know that he does.’
‘Yes, I’d go along with that,’ said Clarke. ‘We can’t take anything at face value right now. Certainly not if the name Fairbrother is involved.’
She downed the remains of her double espresso in one.
‘OK. I’ll let Pearson know that’s your line of inquiry. Now, I’ve got to get back to base. But I’m your liaison, yes?’
‘Yes, boss,’ agreed Vogel, who actually always wanted to pursue every line of inquiry himself. But then, so did Nobby Clarke, in spite of her seniority. Which was probably one of the reasons they understood each other so well.
TWENTY-TWO
Freddie Fairbrother had not booked himself on the next available flight to Australia, as he’d told his sister he would. After all, he’d decided that he wouldn’t go along with her planned course of action, and once he’d made that call to the one person who could stop Bella, everything changed. Obviously.
He had, however, hedged his bets – something of a habit with Freddie – driven to Heathrow, and checked himself into an airport hotel.
He didn’t really like to think about what might happen to Bella now. He told himself she would just be brought back into line, made to realise what she and the whole of what remained of the Fairbrother family stood to lose if she carried out her threat, as Freddie saw it, to tell the police what she knew.
But then, ever since hearing of the fatal fire at Blackdown Manor, he had been intent on convincing himself that there was a relatively innocent explanation for everything; and most certainly no conspiracy to murder. Freddie remained extremely adept at pulling the wool over his own eyes. He was actually very anxious about Bella, fearing the fate that might now befall her. But, at the same time, he told himself that he was being ridiculous. Whatever happened to Bella now, she had brought it upon herself by stepping out of line. And in any case, his sister was not an errant double agent who had fallen foul of the Russian state. Putin wasn’t out to get her. There was no question of Freddie having put her life at risk. Bella would be fine.
However, the truth was that Freddie wasn’t sure of that, nor anything else. In fact, he had dodged several calls that afternoon from DI David Vogel – the detective his sister had told him was heading the investigation into the fire at Blackdown and the subsequent deaths, the detective he had promised to call upon his arrival in the UK – partly because he was afraid of what the policeman might have to tell him.
Finally he picked up. After all, he told himself, presumably his sister had given Vogel his number, and the detective’s call could well be just routine.
‘Good afternoon, Mr Fairbrother,’ said the DI formally. ‘I have been trying to contact you as a matter of urgency, because, well, there is no easy way of saying this, but I am afraid I have some very bad news for you.’
Freddie was standing by his room’s triple-glazed picture window, idly watching a 747 coast in to land on the runway nearest to his viewpoint. He fel
t his knees buckle. There were two armchairs by the window. He sank quickly into one of them. Vogel was still talking.
‘Normally, Mr Fairbrother, in situations like this, we would not deliver such news over the telephone. But as we do not know where you are, there seemed little choice—’
‘It’s Bella, isn’t it?’ Freddie interrupted. ‘Something’s happened to my sister. Just tell me, for God’s sake, tell me.’
Freddie had difficulty getting the words out. His throat felt as if it were closing up. He couldn’t swallow. He wasn’t even sure he could breathe properly. He was gasping for air.
‘I’m afraid so, Mr Fairbrother. I am extremely sorry to have to tell you that your sister is dead.’
‘How?’ asked Freddie, his voice little more than a croak. ‘How did Bella die?’
‘I am afraid she has been shot, Mr Fairbrother.’
‘Shot? Murdered?’
‘Yes, sir. I fear so.’
‘Oh my God! Where? Who? Do you know who did it?’
‘Not yet,’ said Vogel quietly. ‘But we will find out, you can trust me on that, Mr Fairbrother. She was killed in her home, in her London flat.’
‘Oh my God,’ said Freddie again.
‘Look sir, I realise you have had a terrible shock, but we do need to interview you as soon as possible. Perhaps you would be kind enough to tell me where you are, and we could make an appointment.’
‘I don’t know. I mean, why do you want to see me? I didn’t have anything to do with it.’
‘I wasn’t suggesting that you did, Mr Fairbrother,’ said Vogel. ‘But you are Bella’s brother and she is now the second member of your family to have died in, at the very least, suspicious circumstances, in under a week. I assume you are in the UK now, sir?’
‘Uh, yes.’
‘So, may I ask if you have seen your sister since your arrival here?’
‘Uh, yes,’ said Freddie again.
He was in too great a state of shock to lie. In any case, he feared he would only further incriminate himself.
‘And when was that, sir?’
‘This morning. I saw her this morning.’
‘In Somerset?’
‘Yes.’
‘Are you still there?’
‘No.’
‘So where are you, sir?’
Freddie was well aware that Vogel’s manner was one of somewhat exaggerated patience. He didn’t entirely blame him.
‘I’m at the Heathrow Sofitel,’ he said.
Again, Freddie felt that lying would probably cause more trouble than telling the truth. He didn’t want to put himself in a position where he was on the run from the British police, not if he could help it anyway.
Vogel continued to speak. ‘Mr Fairbrother, it is quite possible that you are the last person to have seen your sister alive. Apart from her killer. Or certainly the last person to have spoken to her. I need to meet up with you as quickly as possible. I’m in London myself. I will come to your hotel and, traffic permitting, I should be with you in just over an hour.’
‘I don’t think there’s anything I can tell you …’
‘You may well have important information without even realising it, Mr Fairbrother. Please stay exactly where you are, and I shall be with you as soon as possible.’
With that Vogel ended the call.
Freddie’s heart seemed to be beating twice as fast as usual. The back of his neck felt sweaty and his hands were trembling.
Bella was dead. She had been murdered. He felt sure he knew very well who had killed her, or, more probably, arranged her killing. And Freddie himself had been instrumental in his sister’s death. It was the call he had made that morning which had led to this. He had little doubt about that.
Freddie may have been close to his sister once, but he had not seen her in twenty years. And he had always blamed her for the irrevocable rift with his father. After all, she was the one who had blabbed. So, he had felt little love for his sister, seeing her again after all that time. Unlike Bella, the other way around. However, Freddie had probably never really loved anyone in his life. Not since his childhood, anyway. But Bella was his flesh and blood. Not only that, she was the one who, armed with the contents of the briefcase he had handed over to her that morning, had been supposed to oversee the rescue and revitalisation of the family bank. And Freddie had continued to hope that Bella would merely be made to see sense, and that the rescue operation would continue as planned.
The news that she was dead, murdered, was therefore a shock in more ways than one. Not only was Freddie quite terrified by the prospect of an impending police interview that, unless he was very careful indeed, might lead to him being suspected of complicity in his sister’s death; but he did not see how the greater plan he was part of could possibly now proceed. Not without Bella.
Freddie wasn’t good at coping with difficult or stressful situations, which was why he had been more or less content to live the life of a lotus eater for so long. The situation he now found himself in was beyond difficult and stressful. It was a catastrophic debacle. Far from reclaiming his position as leader, if only nominally, of the Fairbrother clan, he could end up in jail. And he had absolutely no idea what to do about it.
Then his phone rang again.
‘Good afternoon, dear boy,’ said the voice of the man he had long ago learned to fear. The man he now quite believed could be capable of anything. But Bella’s murder? Surely not that.
‘Did you do it?’ he asked, his voice still little more than a croak. ‘You couldn’t have done, could you? Did you really kill Bella?’
The reply was swift and uncompromising. ‘Please be very careful what you say. Do not use names. Do you understand me?’
‘Yes,’ croaked Freddie.
‘Right. How do you know she is dead?’
‘The police called me. David Vogel.’
‘How did he have your number? You’ve only just arrived in the country.’
‘I don’t know. I suppose B … uh … she gave it to him. But you haven’t answered me. Did you do it? Did you kill her?’
‘I did what had to be done. She was about to blow the whole thing wide open, and it was you who told me that. Remember? She was out of our control. It was the last thing I wanted to happen. But she brought it on herself. You must see that. She had to be removed, for all our sakes and for the sake of the business, however hurtful you, or I, might find that. We must move on now. And we can move on together. As long as you do what I say, dear boy.’
‘Yes, yes of course,’ croaked Freddie again.
He was now trembling so much so that he had difficulty holding his phone. He suspected that he might have cause to fear for his own life. But he just hoped that he was indispensable, now that Bella was gone.
In any case, he had always been an unlikely rebel. On the one hand so wanting to go his own way, and on the other almost invariably needing to be told what to do if faced with anything remotely difficult or challenging. He knew he shouldn’t be ‘so bloody weak’, as his sister had told him, not for the first time, that very morning. But he’d never been able to help his weakness, Bella wasn’t there anymore. And that was largely down to him. So now all he could do was listen, obey, and hope that his caller still knew what he was doing and had a way out of this mess. He usually did, after all.
‘Right,’ came the reply. ‘I am going to arrange for a package to be brought to you. The same package that you unfortunately handed over this morning. You will take that to head office straight away. Its contents will almost certainly encourage the board to believe that the business can be saved, and that all they have to do is keep things going until the will and the trust fund papers the briefcase contains can be put into operation …’
‘But B …, I mean, she, said it could take weeks for a death certificate to be issued—’
Freddie wasn’t allowed to finish.
‘The family business has survived for centuries, I think it can survive for a few more weeks, as
long as the board can be convinced of the ultimate result. That will be your job. And following the regrettable absence now of any other family member to take over the reins, you must make yourself available to chair the board. It is what will be expected.’
Freddie’s jaw dropped. Quite literally.
‘I can’t chair the board,’ he blurted out. ‘I wouldn’t have a clue. I don’t know how to run an international company.’
‘No. Of course not. But I do. And I shall run the company with you as a mere figurehead. Which, by the way, was all that the person who regrettably is no longer able to fulfil the position was ever going to be. Only, unlike you, she didn’t know it.’
‘B-but, you’re going to be in hiding for the rest of your days, that’s what you said, wasn’t it?’
‘The Internet makes the world a very small place. I have always intended to remain in control. To be, quite literally, the power behind the throne.’
For the first time it occurred to Freddie that his caller had gone mad. Quite mad. But he still felt he had no choice but to rely on him.
‘Look, I’ll try, I’ll try to do as you ask. But it’s going to be way past office hours before I get to head office. There might not be anybody there.’
Freddie could hear a dry chuckle.
‘You needn’t worry about that,’ said the voice. ‘Under these circumstances I reckon the lot of ’em will be working all night.’
‘All right,’ said Freddie. ‘There’s something else, though. Vogel’s on his way to see me. He insisted. I don’t know what to say. I’m terrified of saying the wrong thing. You must help me. You must tell me what to do—’
Wheel of Fire Page 23
