by Hylton Smith
“Somebody gave me a lift, one of the electricians I think. The supervisor persuaded me not to attempt to drive. The man who brought me home didn’t know the area too well and I told him to let me off at the Angel, and I would walk the rest.”
Ben Adams wanted to speak with Andy Johnson again, as the initial report from uniform had not pursued the possible sighting of another witness. He did not have high hopes that the public would respond to Renton’s plea through the media. People would know about Banks and Beresford, their openly declared hostility toward each other, and what might be the consequences of stepping forward to help the police.
*
Vivienne Banks amazed Renton. She had been so irrational in her demands to see the body, and now she stood there, emotionless. She finally nodded her head without taking her eyes off the corpse. When asked if she needed some time alone with her husband, she reverted to norm and declined.
“I’ve already spent more than enough time alone with him.” She walked out of the examination room without another word. Renton let her go and turned to Watson.
“She insists that he and four of his cronies were on a piss-up football weekend in London. He was supposed to come back on Saturday evening, but the Toon played so well they intended to have another bender, and planned to return on Sunday. How does that fit with your time of death? The M.O. engaged in a quick mental arithmetic subtraction.
“I know you said I was not to muddy the waters, but this cannot be helped. His body was discovered at approximately 4.50 am, you were there shortly before six. However if I go back thirty-six hours from our test at 2.05 pm, we are talking mortality at or before 2 am Sunday morning. That being the case, he either had a very short sleep on Saturday night, and travelled home to be murdered, or he met his fate down south. Can you verify her story?”
Renton shook his head. “I’ve yet to check it out. He apparently used his own aircraft, so I’ll start with the pilot and air traffic control. Presumably the other members of the party will still be alive, although she only assumed those with him on Friday night at the house were the same as the ones on the alleged football trip. She claimed she had a call from his mobile to tell her they were staying over on Saturday night. I need to call forensics to check whether they have his phone. She also claims she rang him several times after that and only got the unobtainable tone.” Just as he was about to make the call his phone rang. It was his office.
“D.C. Baker here Sir, I’ve had someone confirm Banks attendance at the Emirates Stadium on Saturday.” He told Stephanie Baker to continue.
“He was a guest of a person who had a corporate box at the ground, a Mr Angus Wilson. There’s also a purchase against his Visa card for champagne.” He passed this on to Watson and headed off to speak to forensics rather than use the phone.
Chapter 2
Ben Adams had been kept waiting by the Banks’ solicitor Richard Doyle. When he was finally informed that he could enter the office, with its typically traditional furnishings and a panoramic view of the river Tyne, he politely but sarcastically thanked the secretary. The old iconic bridge on which the Great North Run hordes massed every year, and the more recent addition, the retractable, crescent-shaped Millenium Bridge, provided an impressive frame for the picture. On the opposite side of the river, the now famous Baltic art gallery added a reminder of past industry alongside the glittering Sage auditorium. He instantly realised what had caused the hold-up. Vivienne Banks had not taken long to check on the will. She stopped, implied with a long stare that he should stand aside to accommodate her appropriately dramatic exit.
“Let’s get straight to the point Mr Doyle. It’s a murder enquiry, so save the bullshit about confidentiality, we need to know who the beneficiaries of his rather obscene fortune are. Would you like to begin?”
“Certainly, as you may be aware they have no children. His assets pass to his wife, if you can classify debt as an asset.” Adams asked him to go on. “He updated his will just over a week ago. Not the named beneficiary, but references to the safekeeping of his industrial operation. Vivienne, sorry, Mrs Banks neither has the capability nor the desire to run the conglomerate. She understood his reluctance to let this somehow fall into the hands of her father. What we cannot understand is the complete liquidation of his funds. She gets the house, which he has just re-mortgaged. The healthy balance he had in an investment portfolio was withdrawn before the will was updated, and we don’t know at this time where the money has gone.”
“How much are we talking about?”
“Over sixty-five million.”
“Not chicken-feed then.”
“Detective, I am just as interested as you are to find out how this has evaporated, and to where, but I can say right now that Mrs Banks knew about the updating of the will and remained as the executor. She does not need the money, as I am sure you are aware, ‘Daddy’s’ fortune dwarfs that of Banks, and she will always get whatever she wants from that source. She seems unconcerned.” Adams got up to leave.
“We may both be interested in where the money has gone Doyle, but I can’t imagine your curiosity extends to how this could be linked to his death. He got one past you and that won’t go down well for your reputation. I will be back to see you, and I won’t wait around in reception for an hour. I’d like you to deposit a statement of what you have just told me, and what was discussed between you and the disenfranchised widow in that hour. I will call you.”
*
Clive Donoghue had only recently ascended to head up forensics for the Three Rivers region and had yet to earn the full respect of that accorded to his retired predecessor. That challenge would be stiffened by his appointment coming with the hint of an endorsement by the Chief Executive of the regional government administration, Monica Armstrong. Rumour had it that she was convinced of his suitability by an unknown figure in the Colony. It was never questioned. Renton was also trying to establish a similar relationship with Donoghue, to the one he enjoyed with Gregory Watson.
“I apologise for the flying visit Clive, but Cousins is keenly interested in this case for obvious reasons and he wants a briefing from me tomorrow. Is there anything to report yet?” Donoghue had the annoying habit of swivelling in his chair while talking.
“Not really. He had money on him, the usual credit cards, and at this early stage we have not had any ‘eureka’ hits, but that is not so worrying, we have confidence that we’ll find fibres or traces of stuff which will begin the story.”
“What about his mobile?”
“I am told there was no phone at the scene, and he did not have one on his person before Watson took the body away. That is quite unusual, I must admit.” Renton asked to be kept up to date.
*
Adams left the solicitor’s Quayside customer car park, crossed the more westerly Redheugh Bridge, and descended on to the western bypass. Leaving the motorway at the Washington slip road, he let his GPS system guide him to Andy Johnson’s address. The doctor was in attendance and had diagnosed food poisoning. Mrs Johnson hurried off to pick up the prescription at the Metro Centre supermarket pharmacy.
“Andy, do you feel up to going over the events of this morning again? It won’t take long and could be very important.”
“Ok, but I was really out of it even before I saw the body. That vision just flipped me over the top.”
Adams reassured him that he was not going to revisit the moment of realisation that he had discovered a corpse. “I’m more interested in the person you saw walking the dog. You said you weren’t sure whether it was a man or a woman, why was that?”
“Well, they were wearing a top with a hood, and had their back to me.”
“What colour was it, the hooded top?”
“I’m not really sure, but it wasn’t dark. In the artificial light it looked yellow or orange, could have even been red.”
“Was the person going your way?”
“No, he was heading to the joining footpath, I was going to the le
ft, but seeing the body changed all that. When I realised exactly what was lying in front of me, I looked up for the dog walker but he had gone out of sight.”
“You said ‘he’ Andy, why was that?”
“Did I? Shit, I don’t know why, I’m really not sure.”
“Don’t worry, this often happens, when people are concentrating on another aspect of recalling a scene they can suddenly ascribe clarity to something they could not earlier. Well that could be helpful; I’ll come back when you are feeling better.”
“Right, there’s one thing I am sure about though. The other officer didn’t ask, but I’m a dog lover myself as you can see by my two Boxers there. His dog, there I go again, it must have been a man, was a very rare breed, especially here in the north.”
“Really, go on.”
“It was an Akita, a Spitz breed, originating in the mountains of Japan. They are beautiful animals. I’m surprised I haven’t seen it before, although if that’s its normal walking time I suppose I wouldn’t anyway.”
“And he shouldn’t live too far away. Thanks Andy, I hope you get well soon.”
This was good news for Renton and he immediately asked the local radio stations to broadcast the interest the police had in speaking to this dog owner. Meanwhile Stephanie Baker had followed up Banks’ recent credit card transaction history, as it was a joint facility with his wife. A slow smile betrayed Renton’s delight. Vivienne Banks had purchased a slap-up lunch at an extremely upmarket country hotel on the Friday Banks was entertaining his cronies before leaving for London.
“That’s not all Sir, she stayed the night, and paid the bill, but it was booked in the name of Richard Doyle.”
“Well, well, well, they must be really good friends Stephanie, well done. Keep this to yourself for now.” Renton decided Mrs Banks would be a better bet and rang the home number. It was re-directed to her mobile.
“Viv Banks, hello…”
“It’s D.C.I. Renton, I wondered if you would like to tell me about what you really did on Friday night. Not on the phone, I’ll pick you up, and please don’t try to get in touch with Doyle, that would only make me more suspicious. Where can I collect you?”
“I don’t need to ring him Detective, he is right here.” Before he could reply Doyle grabbed her mobile.
“Renton this amounts to harassment, we have cooperated fully and Vivienne needs support, the kind she is not getting from you. So, if you will kindl….”
“Have it your way Mr Doyle. Please report to the station immediately. I wanted to save you this embarrassment but your attitude tells me I’m wasting my time treading so carefully around your sensitivities.”
“Are you serious man, it is almost 9pm, can’t it wait until tomorrow?”
“No, I’ll give you one more chance. Where are you?”
“Very well, we are at a bistro in Jesmond, I live just around the corner. Do you need my address?”
“We have it on file. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.” Renton asked Stephanie Baker if she wanted to go home. She declined. The prospect of a juicy interview with Vivienne Banks was irresistible. Renton needed a witness to what could be the revelation of crucial information. It would be more interesting than continuing to chase down the other names on the flight manifest. It did occur to her that it was strange that they had not contacted the police themselves.
*
Adams had just got home and settled down to his evening ready meal for one. The phone rang. It was the local station, and they had been questioning a man who claimed he had been walking in the area of the Angel in the early hours. It turned out to be the dog walker. Adams laughed.
“Was it because of Renton’s radio appeal? I wouldn’t have expected such a quick response.” The reply was better news for Adams.
“No, he’d heard about the incident just like everyone else and thought he should tell us he had seen something strange on his outward walk, before the body was discovered. Do you want to speak with him yourself?”
“You bet I do, ask him to wait, I won’t be long.” When he spoke to the young man he confirmed that he was the owner of the Akita. This was his normal walk time, as he did not want the dog to have attention from strangers.
“I’m on the dole, always have been like, and I’d rather gan oot when it’s dark and quiet ye knaa. I can hoy things for Fang when he’s off the leader.”
Adams told him that he was seen by the person who had actually discovered the body, and asked if he had noticed this person.
“Na, I saw the car though, was it his?”
“Where exactly did you see the car?”
“At the back of the statue, wey a bit back from the statue like. It was gettin’ pulled up the slope by the crane, but it was gone when me and Fang came back.”
“Let me get this right Jimmy, you saw a crane lifting a car behind the Angel. Didn’t you think that was very strange?”
“Wey aye, but the bloke came up to us, me and Fang, and told us to keep oot the way cos it was dangerous. He made us gan aroond the path instead of cuttin’ across the grass like. He said the car would be chucked away, ye knaa, dumped.”
“Did you remember any details about the vehicle?”
“Aye, it was blue. It was one o’ them Italian jobs, er an Alfa Romeo Spyder I think. I didn’t get the whole number like, just the last part. It was an ’05 plate, but the funny thing was the last three letters were PUP, just like Fang. I think that’s why I forgot the first letters.”
“Right Jimmy, I want you to make a full statement to the officer here, and we’ll need to see you again. Can you remember anything about the crane man who directed you and Fang to the path? You know - what he looked like, or even what name was on the crane?”
“Not the crane, and he was wearin’ a hard hat like, but he had a grey tash and a lump above it, at the side of his nose, a bit like one ye get from bumpin’ ya heed hard against the wall, ye knaa.”
Adams thanked the young man and left, acknowledging the favour the local officer had done for him. “I owe you one Fred, maybe at the Xmas party!”
*
Vivienne Banks was seriously inebriated and unconcerned by Renton’s appearance, in sharp contrast to Doyle, who was decidedly nervous. The top floor apartment was the antithesis to his office – minimalist and bright. Modern art hung sporadically on the otherwise pristine walls. The log fire looked absolutely real, but wasn’t.
“Chief Inspector, would you like a coffee, I won’t encourage you to drink on duty, or is this off the record?”
Vivienne poured herself another large glass of wine and Renton remarked, “No, I’m afraid it is official, I’m sorry to intrude on what appears to be some kind of celebration, but I need to clarify something with you.”
He introduced Stephanie and said she would take notes if they felt the truth was not being offered. They were asked to sit, and chose the vacant sofa opposite the two interviewees.
“Let’s begin with you Mr Doyle; are you able to tell me where you were on Friday evening?” He knew they would have discussed his assertion that Vivienne had lied when he had first questioned her.
“Why would I have to account for my whereabouts? I am a solicitor, and I know how these things go. If you have highly specific questions I will consider my response, but I will not engage in this kind of charade.”
“Suit yourself. We’ve got evidence that you actually spent the night at the same country hotel as Mrs Banks. The room was reserved in your name only, but she made a transaction during the evening, and curiously paid for your room on Saturday morning. The hotel staff confirmed that you breakfasted together. I need to know why Mrs Banks told me she spent the night at home. I’ll ask her directly in a moment, but I thought you, as her solicitor, may want to set an example for her, by giving an accurate account of the events of Friday night.”
“I see. Well, there is nothing to hide. I can only imagine that she thought it would appear strange that she was in a hotel with another man,
and never saw her husband again until she was informed of his suspicious death. Although it was naïve, I can understand why she felt she should not disclose our meeting, especially as he had just altered his will. Do you have more specific questions?” Renton asked Stephanie to put down her notepad.
“I do, but first I must ask you to confirm you both stayed overnight at the hotel, and neither of you were able to verify how many associates Mr Banks entertained at his house that night, or indeed who they were.” Vivienne was about to reply when Doyle cut her off.
“That is correct, and before you ask if we shared the same room, the answer is in the affirmative. However, we did not share the same bed. I am of the alternate persuasion, or to put it another way – she is not my type. The hotel in question has many rooms with two king-size double beds. You can verify ours was one such room. I am sure you are going to ask why we met there, so let us get to the point. The marital relationship was already on the rocks and yet they wanted to avoid a messy divorce. That is very important when your father is Peter Beresford. It becomes even more important when Banks was intending to move his business to Germany, and take residence there. His Bio-Engineering division is quite a stellar operation. He had received a lot of government funding for this in the beginning, and this ‘defection’ is seen as extremely disloyal by many. Vivienne has never enjoyed a good relationship with her father; security of the family meant a very restricted life. She blames her father for the erosion of her relationship with Banks. Our meeting was arranged with absolute neutrality of the location as the key factor. Alistair asked me to brief Vivienne so that she could be certain that what was ordained to happen would not disadvantage her. We spent almost the entire night going over the detail. As we now know, those meticulous plans are in disarray. I am afraid this may prove to be anything but a simple killing Inspector. I will be withdrawing from the arena as soon as I can. That is what Vivienne and I were discussing over dinner. I advise you to be careful with whom you share this information. Do you have more questions?”
