Murder in Room 346

by Phillip Strang

  ‘Your daughter was arrested for his murder. How did you and your husband react?’

  ‘We’re shocked. Helen’s never shown any violence before. We drove up to where she was being held. Helen’s in a cell. She said that Gerald went crazy and she had to stop him. Outside, Gerald’s children. They’re upset over their father’s death, over Helen being charged. They can’t believe she’s guilty, neither can we.’

  ‘Mrs Mackay, would you be surprised if I told you that Helen may have killed him not in self-defence but as a premeditated attack?’

  ‘I’ll never believe that of Helen.’

  In the other room, Isaac spoke with Helen’s father. ‘Is it possible that Helen was not the innocent she portrayed herself to be?’ Isaac said.

  ‘She never portrayed herself as innocent, just a victim of circumstance.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘This hold she had over people.’

  ‘Could you see through it?’

  ‘When she was a child, I could.’

  ‘Dixey’s?’

  ‘I went once, tried to plead with her to come home.’

  ‘Did you see her on the stage?’

  ‘No, I left before then. She said she was fine, life was good.’

  ‘Did you believe her?’

  ‘Helen had no issues with what she was doing.’

  ‘Do you believe she was capable of love?’

  ‘With her parents, yes. With the men, no.’

  ‘Gerald Adamant?’

  ‘We hoped she was, but we could never be certain.’

  ‘We have serious doubts about their relationship, although we believe she was in love with James Holden.’

  ‘The proof?’

  ‘His wife said it was love. She had seen them together in Holden’s office, at the Holden house.’

  ‘Is that why they were in that room when they were shot?’

  ‘We believe so.’

  ‘I read about Aberman,’ Helen’s father said. He had initially cheered up on talking about his daughter, but now he was sad again.

  ‘Did you meet him?’

  ‘I met a man when I entered the club, a big man, gruff voice.’

  ‘That’s probably Gus, the doorman and bouncer. He’s charged with being an accessory to Aberman’s murder.’

  ‘Is Helen involved? She always had an unusual outlook on life, a detachment. She had no concept of what was moral and what was not. She had her set of values, and that was that.’

  ‘Did you talk to her about it?’

  ‘When she was younger. Not that she ever caused any trouble, and her school marks were excellent. And then, there was the university and the accountant’s, and then…’

  ‘She was in a strip club,’ Isaac said.

  ‘She threw all that she had away for nothing. Did she kill Aberman?’

  ‘Do you believe she could?’

  ‘Helen was capable of anything, good or bad. To her, there was no difference.’

  ‘It must be painful for you to be so honest.’

  ‘The truth is best served by my openness. My wife will try to cover for her, but what good will it do? If Helen is guilty, it will come out eventually.’

  ‘Helen did not kill Ben Aberman; however, Gerald Adamant’s death is suspicious.’

  ‘Whatever the truth, we’ll have to deal with it,’ Frank Mackay said.

  Isaac could see a devastated man who had learnt to deal with the reality of his daughter. He had seen through her, but others continued to believe in her.

  Chapter 22

  Isaac and Wendy arrived back at Challis Street. As they entered the building, Superintendent Seth Caddick was waiting.

  ‘It’s a good job I caught you. In my office, five minutes,’ Caddick said to Isaac.

  ‘What now?’ Isaac whispered to Wendy as the man walked away.

  ‘He was smiling, it can only be good news,’ Wendy said.’

  ‘Good for who?’

  Isaac walked up the stairs to the third floor, part of his keep fit regime to avoid taking the lift as much as possible.

  ‘You’ve been questioning Archie Adamant, accusing him of being involved,’ Caddick said as Isaac settled himself on the hard chair opposite the man’s desk.

  ‘We’re reopening the case into his father’s death. I was attempting to make him open up.’

  ‘And did he?’

  ‘Not really. There are hidden layers to this case, and Adamant knows some of them.’

  ‘And you feel that upsetting Adamant is one way of achieving this?’

  ‘I do. Adamant and anyone else who is not totally open.’

  ‘He’s made a complaint.’

  ‘It’s a murder enquiry. I’m not going easy on him just because his father was murdered.’

  ‘I’m not expecting you to.’

  ‘Then why am I here?’

  ‘There’s an audit of Homicide.’

  Isaac knew it to be the expected audit of the superintendent, not the department.

  ‘We’re ready,’ Isaac said.

  ‘Not with all these murders unsolved.’

  ‘The investigations are proceeding satisfactorily.’

  ‘You’ve solved one murder. That leaves five. What about Gerald Adamant’s death? Is it murder?’

  ‘It’s a theory at this time.’

  Isaac sensed a change in his superintendent, a change he did not like. The man wanted a favour; he wasn’t sure if he could give it, not sure how to avoid it.

  ‘What do you need from me to solve Holden’s murder?’ Caddick said.

  ‘No more than we have at present. Why are you asking?’

  ‘Commissioner Davies has thrown me to the wolves. An unfavourable audit of Homicide will reflect badly on me.’

  ‘It will reflect badly on us all, but where’s the problem? Our record is sound, our reporting is up to date, and we, as a team, are conscious of budgetary constraints. What do you have to worry about?’

  ‘Goddard was a good man, knew what he was doing,’ Caddick said.

  ‘That’s not what you said before.’

  ‘I understand your animosity. I’m an ambitious man, the same as you.’

  ‘We have little in common,’ Isaac said.

  ‘If I receive a negative mark, it will reflect on you and your department.’

  ‘You’ll make sure it does.’

  ‘Not me, not this time. I’m offering a truce, the chance to protect each other.’

  ‘I will do my duty as a detective chief inspector. What more can I do?’

  ‘Davies is attempting to consolidate Homicide departments, get rid of Challis Street.’

  ‘The man never gives up.’

  ‘He’s a survivor, so am I, so is Goddard, and so are you. Any attempt to reduce staffing levels, the number of Homicide departments, will affect you as much as me.’

  ‘Not Davies,’ Isaac said.

  ‘I know it,’ Caddick replied. ‘We need each other. Goddard not coming back, so we’d better come to an arrangement. If I don’t present us well enough to the auditors, it’s my head and your department.’

  ***

  Ben Aberman’s former wife finally had possession of the house in Bray. Before she moved in, she had the place painted inside and out. Her husband was not so keen, as he had to commute the extra distance to London each day. ‘I’ve longed for this day for so long,’ she said as he attempted to carry her over the threshold, a mock attempt at pretending it was their first night together as man and wife.

  The fact that he pulled a muscle in his lower back dampened the moment. Later that day, she walked around the garden, keeping her distance from where her dead husband had been found. ‘We’ll cover the area with concrete, put up a pergola,’ she said.

  Her husband, a calm and steadying influence, only nodded. Whatever she wanted, he knew she’d get. He had not wanted to enter the house as it reignited memories in his wife, memories she had kept repressed. He had looked upstairs and into the room where Aberman ha
d been shot. It had been a bedroom, now it would be a study for him. A reminder that Ben Aberman was dead and he was not coming back, thankfully.

  ***

  The reopening of the investigation into the death of Gerald Adamant had certain repercussions. The majority of those who had been close to the man and to Helen would have preferred it to be left alone. There was a cherished memory of the man, a fondness for the woman, and both were flawed. Helen’s flaws were all the more apparent after her murder and more so after her past life had been exposed again. Not that it was a great secret before, as she had never attempted to conceal it totally, but now the gutter press was digging in the dirt, trying to find out the salacious, interviewing those who had known her. If they couldn’t get what they wanted, they made it up.

  As far as the media was concerned, Helen Langdon did not gyrate on that pole at Dixey’s, she was taking the men into the back room. And as for Holden, she seduced him, dragged him into that hotel, and then a jealous ex-lover, probably a criminal, had come in and in a rage of jealousy shot Helen and Holden.

  The truth, Isaac knew, was what people believed. No amount of explaining the facts at a press conference, or if he agreed to an interview, would change what people thought. James Holden, as a result, regained some respectability. Many in the community believed in what he had been trying to achieve, and some were willing to admit that he had erred, not because of his weaknesses, but because societal values and the openness of modern-day England had corrupted even him.

  All that Isaac knew was that his department had reached a critical juncture in the investigation. The murders appeared to have ceased, everyone’s dirty linen was out in the open.

  Caddick was a nuisance, now looking to Isaac and his team to get him out of trouble, and even Isaac wasn’t sure what to do. Other stations, other police officers, were concerned about the consolidation of various departments, the shutting down of some stations, even reducing police numbers out on the street. Isaac knew it was a retrograde step, and even Davies couldn’t do anything about it, other than take advantage to strengthen his position, weaken others.

  The first that Isaac heard by way of confirmation that Richard Goddard’s star was again in the ascendancy was when Bridget came bursting into his office. ‘DCS Goddard’s coming back.’ The second was when the man put his head around the door. ‘Caddick’s gone,’ Goddard said. One-minute Caddick was on the phone, the next he was out of the front door.

  Isaac rushed over to warmly shake Goddard’s hand; the others in the office, likewise.

  Goddard made an impromptu speech. ‘Thanks for welcoming me back. Commissioner Davies has great faith in this department, a faith that you will show is fully justified.’

  ‘Superintendent Caddick?’ Wendy asked.

  ‘He’s been assigned a position in a regional station. He will retain the rank of superintendent.’

  Inside Isaac’s office with the door closed, Isaac asked his senior, ‘What’s the truth?’

  ‘Davies is playing for time. If he puts me here, then he’s shown that he has taken notice of the criticism levelled at Caddick. He’ll take the flak for removing me and others and strengthen his position, turn it to his advantage.’

  ‘Caddick?’

  ‘Davies has protected him. A regional station, lower responsibilities, and not subjected to the same scrutiny as we are.’

  ‘He left in a hurry, no coming in here to say goodbye.’

  ‘The man was thankful to be out of here. He made no friends here.’

  ‘We’ll not miss him. We can rely on you to deal with the audit.’

  ‘I will. However, James Holden?’

  ‘It all points to Helen Langdon as the primary target, although there were others who bore a grudge against Holden. Since then, as you well know, there have been several other murders.’

  ‘I’ve kept up to date with the case,’ Goddard said.

  ‘We believe the murderer entered the hotel with another prostitute. He drugged her – she woke up later – and then walked across the passageway, entered the room, and then shot the two of them in bed.’

  ‘The other prostitute?’

  ‘Gwendoline. She’s still alive, although her previous flatmate, Daisy, is not.’

  ‘And Adamant?’

  ‘In light of what’s happened, what we’ve found out, his death is suspicious,’ Isaac said. ‘And Slater’s and his receptionist’s deaths, they could be related to Aberman.’

  ‘Wherever Helen Langdon moved, death seemed to follow,’ Goddard said.

  ‘They’re all interconnected, and just focussing on who shot the first victim is going nowhere. The man with Gwendoline is not easy to trace.’

  ‘Any clues?’

  ‘Nothing significant from the prostitute. The normal – average height, average weight, hat pulled forward.’

  ‘Did anyone else see him?’

  ‘The concierge at the hotel, but he wasn’t looking either. He keeps his eyes down, takes the money off the woman and hands her the key. He had a good little number there, but he couldn’t stop peeping into the rooms.’

  ‘No more from him?’

  ‘Nothing.

  ‘If Gwendoline remembered anything, she’d probably be dead now.’

  ‘It’s her only protection. The man killed two people in cold blood, and then another prostitute later; a third wouldn’t concern him.’

  ‘If he were paid for two, he’d not kill any more unless he was compromised,’ Goddard said.

  ***

  Wendy dropped in on Mrs Hawthorne, Aberman’s next-door neighbour. It had become a weekly routine, and the woman always seemed to remember something on each occasion. She found her not to be her usual cheerful self.

  ‘What’s the problem?’ Wendy asked as she sat down in the front room.

  ‘It’s her next door. She reckons I’m nosey, always looking over the fence. She used to be friendly in the past, but now, it’s as if she’s hiding something.’

  Wendy thought the woman’s observations were nothing more than feeling unneeded. In all the years since Aberman had disappeared, she had kept watch on his house, but now, her looking over the fence from behind a drawn curtain in an upstairs window was not wanted. Wendy left the house and walked next door.

  At the front door was Ben Aberman’s ex-wife. ‘She’s been accusing us in the neighbourhood of killing Ben,’ she said. Wendy could see that the woman was agitated.

  ‘Is that it?’

  ‘Not totally. My husband, he’s not so keen on the place. I thought it would be relaxing here, but he wants to go back to London.’

  ‘And you?’

  ‘I’m staying. Mrs Hawthorne, if she continues, will have a writ against her for slander. There are a few others around here who’ll back me up.’

  ‘You know some of the locals?’

  ‘One or two. I lived here for a while, and they didn’t like it when I left, and then Ben was flaunting the debauchery.’

  ‘Debauchery?’

  ‘You know what I’m referring to, the same as the nosey old woman next door does. This place was depraved, women everywhere, and not too fussy who was watching.’

  ‘Ben?’

  ‘I was told he behaved himself, not sure if that’s true.’

  ‘Who told you?’

  ‘Some of those who attended.’

  ‘Important people?’

  ‘I never pried into who they were.’

  ‘We were told Ben paid for everything.’

  ‘He did.’

  ‘But how? He couldn’t have afforded the parties that often.’

  ‘Every other week, regular as clockwork. Arrive at the house eight at night on Saturday, leave midday on Sunday.’

  ‘But you attended the parties.’

  ‘The earlier ones, but they were tame by comparison. It was only after we separated that they changed, Ben changed.’

  ‘The people who attended?’

  ‘I’ve told you all this before. Slater was there, so w
ere some of the girls from the club. Not the one that was killed with James Holden. I told you I saw Gerald Adamant at the house once, angry as well, but that was a long time ago. Apart from that, no one I knew.’

  ‘Your husband?’

  ‘We met some time after. He never met Ben.’

  Wendy wasn’t sure where the conversation was heading. She’d been invited in, and she approved of the work that had been done in the house. It was freshly painted, and there was a pleasant feel to the house. It was hard to envisage it as a den of iniquity, but that was what it had been once.

  ‘What about where they buried Ben?’

  ‘We’re putting a concrete slab over it.’

  ‘No issues moving into the house, considering?’

  ‘I’m not squeamish. My husband is.’

  ‘I feel that you know more than you ever tell us,’ Wendy said. ‘You knew the people who came to the parties while you were here. Who were they?’

  ‘Slater, my husband. The others I never knew. Barry Knox, he used to come here.’

  ‘Gus, the doorman at Dixey’s?’

  ‘He was here, but I can’t remember him taking an active part unless getting drunk qualifies.’

  ‘Any dubious characters?’

  ‘None that I remember.’

  Wendy knew the woman was lying. She had played the game strategically. She was isolated from the parties, from the deaths, and now she was back at the house in Bray. Wendy was not sure of her innocence. She had divorced Ben Aberman several years before his death, and her life since then had been one of normality. With no more to be achieved, the police sergeant left the house and headed back to Challis Street and the police station.

  Chapter 23

  Barry Knox looked at the monitor in his office. He could see the club was filling up, and his decision to bring in fresh women was working. His new doorman, a tough, tattooed individual by the name of Doug, was not as good as Gus. He’d upset the women backstage on a couple of occasions by walking in and staring while they were preparing to go up on stage.

  Knox had had to explain to Doug, a former bouncer at an illegal gambling club, that the women didn’t mind being gawped at up on stage where they were being paid. However, backstage they hung on to their modesty for as long as they could. Knox did not elaborate that they found Doug repulsive. Gus, not the most attractive of men, had always been pleasant to the women, opening the door for them, helping them to carry their bags into the club. Doug was not.