The House on Downshire Hill

by Guy Fraser-Sampson

  “So what did you do – when you found him, I mean?”

  “I realised I couldn’t stay there because there was going to be trouble, so I packed my bag and left. I got a room in a guesthouse in Camden. I’ve been living there and just coming up to the ATM when I needed cash.”

  “So, to be clear, you were drawing cash from Mr Taylor’s bank account even though you knew him to be dead?”

  “Yes, what of it? He didn’t need it, did he? And he probably wouldn’t have minded anyway. It’s not like he had anybody to leave it to, is it?”

  “But why did you just pack up and leave? Surely an innocent person would just have called the police and waited for them to arrive?”

  “Like I said, I didn’t want any trouble. I didn’t want to get involved in anything.”

  “But surely you could see that he’d been murdered? That it wasn’t a natural death?”

  “I suppose so, yeah.”

  “So, I ask you again, if it was nothing to do with you why didn’t you simply call the police?”

  “I didn’t want draw attention to myself.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because your security people wouldn’t like it. I work for them, you see: MI6. You ask them. They’ll tell you. I’m doing an important job for them and I’m supposed to be keeping a low profile.”

  Godwin gave Metcalfe a startled sidelong glance, which he ignored.

  “I think it’s best if we end things there for a while,” he said, trying to pretend that this was the sort of thing that happened every day of the week. “Interview suspended at 16:48,” he announced, looking at the clock on the wall. “Mr Rajarshi, I’ll arrange to have you taken back to your cell.”

  CHAPTER 16

  Desai drove up the M1 to Luton the next morning. As usual, the section following the junction with the M25 was ridiculously busy, with traffic pretty much at a standstill. However, since she had left plenty of time for her journey she was only a few minutes late as she drew up outside the small house on a modern housing estate.

  When Colin McKenzie opened the door she guessed he was probably about 70. From the way in which her arrival prompted twitching curtains in the surrounding houses she also guessed that he probably didn’t get many visitors.

  “Come along in, please do,” he said as if reading her thoughts. “I don’t get many visitors you know.”

  When they were seated in the living room with tea and biscuits, he gazed at her keenly through eyes that were still sharp and intelligent.

  “So what do you want to know about Conrad? I warn you I may not be able to help you very much. After his family left he became pretty much a recluse. Even I couldn’t get in to see him very often.”

  “Ah, so that was his family then? We were wondering about that. The change of name and everything…”

  “Yes, I was never really sure what was behind that.”

  “Why don’t you just tell me what you can remember Mr McKenzie? About the family I mean.”

  “Well, it all seems a bit bizarre in retrospect. One day they were there, the next they weren’t. I asked Conrad what had happened to them and he just said that they had gone away. I assumed that he and Judith – that was his wife – had split up and that she had taken the children with her. She was a strange one, Judith. I never really got to know her at all. Highly strung is probably the best way to describe her. I used to hear her shouting at him and the kids day after day.”

  “The kids? That would be a girl and a boy would it?”

  “Yes. When last I remember them being there I guess the boy was about 16 and the girl a few years younger. Johann and Elizabeth they were called, although they usually went by John and Liz. They were a bit strange too, particularly the boy.”

  “So, just to be clear, Conrad never explained to you exactly why the rest of the family had left home, or why he had changed his name?”

  “No, he didn’t. He was a very private man you know. He didn’t encourage anybody to stick their nose into his affairs.”

  “Didn’t he ever say anything at all about them: the family, I mean?”

  Not really. There was just once, in a sort of unguarded moment when he said something like ‘families really screw up your life’. I wasn’t sure what to say, but I pushed him a bit and asked him if he’d enjoyed having a son, at least. He looked really angry for a moment – you know, sort of what you might call suppressed rage, as if there was something bubbling away inside – and said ‘my son was a vicious little bastard’. I’ve always remembered that.”

  “And did he seem like he was serious?”

  “Absolutely serious. I changed the subject and never raised it with him again.”

  Desai jotted down a few notes, and then went on.

  “Up until the time you left Downshire Hill, did he ever have anybody living with him do you know?”

  “Not so far as I’m aware. I was surprised to hear that he’d been sharing the house with some young lad. Like I say, he was a very private person.”

  “Talking of that, did he ever give you any indication that he might be gay?”

  “Not as such, no, but there was something I heard one night in the pub. That he’d been seen hanging around on the Heath. That part of the Heath where … well, you know.”

  “When was that?”

  “I don’t know exactly. I heard about it a couple of years before I left – my wife was still alive I think – so that must have been five or six years ago now.”

  Desai scribbled rapidly in her notebook.

  “Do you remember who it was who told you that?”

  “No, just some bloke down the pub. You know what it’s like.”

  “Hm, OK. What more can you tell me about the family?”

  “Well, like I said, the wife had an evil temper on her. She and Conrad never seemed close. I had the idea she was the sort of person who always has to find fault with something. You know what I mean? Someone who’s always discontented, no matter how good their life may actually be.”

  “And you used to hear her shouting?”

  “Yes, a lot. Sometimes you could hear somebody shouting back, usually the son.”

  “Yes, now what about him? Did you know him at all?”

  “Only to say hello to in the street from time to time, though he was a difficult child as you probably know.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Well, didn’t he have a criminal record or something?”

  “Really? Nothing has shown up in our searches. But then we weren’t sure exactly what his name was. Do you know something?”

  “Well, he was big for his age, and maybe a bit physically advanced as well. He and some of his mates used to hang around after school in that service road behind the shops on Haverstock Hill. You know the one? If any of the girls from the school used the service road as a cut through they used to give them a bit of a hard time.”

  “How do you know this?”

  “Rather sad really. A mate of mine who used to drink in the same pub – he’s dead now – used to have a little flat above the shops which looked down at the back. He used to stand there watching them most days. I think it used to give him some sort of thrill. He invited me round to watch with him a few times, but I only went once. Poor bloke was a bit strange, I think. He’d been on his own a long time.”

  “When you say the boys used to give the girls a hard time, what do you mean exactly?”

  “Not all the boys, just this small group – a gang, maybe you’d call it – led by John. He was bigger than the others, more like a man really. So he used to tell the other lads what to do and they’d pretty much go along with it. But there was apparently one day when one of them stood up to him, and he punched him really hard in the face a few times – broke his nose I heard.”

  “Go on.”

  “Well, you can get to the bus stop or the tube station perfectly easily by going round by the main road, see? That’s what pretty much all the girls did, because they knew John and his mates hu
ng around in the service road and they didn’t want to get involved with them. But some of the girls either didn’t know better because they hadn’t done it before, or just didn’t care. They took a shortcut and the boys used to gather round and call out things to them. Then they’d make them give them a kiss or something to let them pass. I don’t want to turn this into something it wasn’t, you know. Times were more innocent back then and it was basically just boys and girls having fun together, but John used to go a bit far sometimes.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Well, I got the impression that John was that bit more advanced than the rest of the gang – sexually, I mean. To be honest, I think most of the boys were just as embarrassed as the girls when they had to kiss. It was just a quick peck and that was it. But John used to give them a really long kiss, much more like an adult, and his hands would be all over them.”

  “And the girls used to put up with this?”

  “Pretty much. Like I say, it wasn’t like they didn’t have a choice. They chose to walk that way, and they must have known pretty much what was going to happen because most of them did it more or less every day. There was one girl in particular, though, who definitely used to enjoy it. Or at least, that was the impression she gave.”

  “Can you tell me anything about her?”

  “Yes. I suppose in a way she was the female equivalent of John, although she wasn’t as old as he was. She was probably more Liz’s sort of age: say 14 or maybe 15. But she could look older, much older. My mate’s flat used to look out not only over the service road but also the approach to it, and I saw for myself that this girl used to actually prepare herself before she ducked behind the shops. She stopped and rolled up the waistband of her skirt to make it really short, and she shook out her hair and brushed it. She was what my mother would have called a tease. She used to stroll up the service road as though butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth, but you could tell that she knew everyone was looking at her, and that she was happy about it.”

  “Did John treat her any differently to the others?”

  “Yes, very much so. He wouldn’t let any of the others touch her. That was what the fight was about, I heard. She was flirting with one of the other boys, sort of daring him to kiss her. He did, and John hit him. That was the story I heard from the bloke in the flat, anyway.”

  “Who was she? Did you ever hear her name?”

  “No, but like I say she was very different from the others. I used to see her around during the holidays and at weekends and if you hadn’t seen her in her school uniform already you would never have known she was a young girl. She used to dress much older, and wear high heels and make-up. My mate said she used to hang around by the shops trying to pick up older men. I didn’t believe him at first, but then one evening she called out to me as I went past.”

  “Really? What did she say?”

  “Something like ‘like to buy me a drink, Mister?’ I think. I’ve always remembered it, to be honest, because I found it so shocking – a young girl like that behaving like some sort of street tart.”

  “Where was this – do you remember?”

  “I’m pretty sure it was in Downshire Hill. Yes, it was, and more or less right outside my house as well.”

  “You said John got into trouble with the police. Was that when he punched the other boy in the face?”

  “He might have got into trouble for that, but that wasn’t what I had in mind, no. There was a time – in the summer, I think – when John and his friends started jumping out on women as they went past and … well, groping them I’m afraid. I heard they did it for a dare and thought it was just a bit of fun, but naturally the women didn’t share that opinion. They had the police come down to the school and set up an identity parade, and John was one of the boys who got picked out. I can remember the police coming to the house to speak to Conrad and Judith. She went ballistic, needless to say.”

  “Did you ever see any sign yourself of him being aggressive?”

  “Only when I used to hear him shouting back at Judith. They were a fine pair, they were.”

  “Do you know if Conrad ever heard anything from his family after they left?”

  “If he did, he didn’t tell me, but like I say he became almost a total recluse, so it wasn’t easy even to get to see him, let alone have a conversation with him.”

  “And you didn’t ever see the family again, or hear anything from them?”

  “No I didn’t, though that’s hardly surprising. We were never close and to be honest I thought Judith was a bit of a nutter. She picked a couple of arguments about nothing very much with my wife, who was a very gentle soul. No, Judith was the sort of person who could have got into a fight with a complete stranger just for the fun of it.”

  “You say that you weren’t close with the family. What about the neighbour on the other side?”

  “I seem to remember that house being empty quite a lot of the time around then. I think Jack Rowbotham had bought it, but he wasn’t actually living there as he was having a lot of building work done. I used to see him dropping in in the evenings on his way home, presumably to check on progress. But come to think of it, I don’t think he actually moved in until later, after Conrad was on his own.”

  “Did you know Jack Rowbotham well?”

  “We were neighbours for quite a few years. We used to pop round occasionally, have a drink in the pub together, that sort of thing. But I wouldn’t say we were particularly close.”

  “Do you know if he was ever married himself ?”

  “Yes, I think he was in the process of getting divorced when he bought the house. I’m sure I remember him telling me that.”

  “Did you ever hear him say anything about having any children?”

  “No, I can’t say I did. I don’t see him with children somehow. He’s a bit of a recluse himself to tell the truth. Oh, nothing as extreme as Conrad, don’t get me wrong. But definitely a bit … what’s the word? … curmudgeonly, that’s it.”

  CHAPTER 17

  “So we have quite a few new developments,” Metcalfe told the team the next morning.

  “First, we have Raj in custody but so far he has denied any involvement in the murder. He claims that he found Taylor dead, and effectively panicked and ran off. We can form our own views about how credible he may be as a witness. We do know, of course, that he has been drawing money out of Taylor’s bank account. He claims that this was with his consent but even if that is true, that consent would presumably have come to an end when he died.”

  “Excuse me, guv, but what are we planning to do about Raj?” Evans enquired.

  “The logical thing is to apply for him to be remanded in custody. Given that on his own admission he fled the crime scene, and that he has no fixed place to live, and that he’s in the country illegally, I don’t see that being a problem.”

  “Could I just cut in for a moment, Bob?” Collison asked.

  “Of course, sir.”

  “I just wanted to say this. You will all have seen a claim which Raj made at the end of his interview yesterday. DI Metcalfe and I will be taking this matter up with Special Branch. We may or may not be able to share their response with you. But in any event, you will please all be even more careful than usual not to share any of this with anybody outside the team. Strictly speaking, we have already breached security since only DI Metcalfe and I have the appropriate clearance, but let’s not make matters any worse than they need to be.”

  He looked around the room and was pleased to see nods of understanding.

  “Carry on please, Bob.”

  “Thank you, sir. The other news is that the neighbour, Colin McKenzie, has given some useful background on the family. It seems that the son, proper name Johann but commonly referred to as John, has some previous, but curiously nothing showed up in our initial searches. Have you been able to track anything down, Priya?”

  “Yes, guv. Nothing about the alleged attack on one of his schoolmates – perhaps that n
ever got reported – but there was something on the sexual assaults. Mr McKenzie was right about the police attending the school and holding some identity parades but in the heat of the moment they didn’t follow PACE guidelines. It was even worse than that, in fact. They let two of the complainants actually see John Schneider on his own before the parade took place. It was accidental, not deliberate, but very careless nonetheless. So without any identification evidence which would stand up in court, it was decided not to prosecute.”

  “So that’s why nothing showed up. Well, even though there’s nothing formal on record I think we know enough to suggest that John Schneider was aggressive, particularly towards women, and quite capable of physical assault.”

  “If I could cut in again, Bob, I’d be very interested to get a read on this from Peter Collins. Perhaps Karen could mention that to him?”

  “Yes, of course,” Willis agreed.

  “But what we still don’t know is why the family suddenly left,” Metcalfe continued. “Both McKenzie and Rowbotham assumed there had been some complete marital breakdown, but that’s just supposition. As far as we can tell at the moment they might just as well have disappeared into thin air.”

  “What about a television appeal, guv?” Godwin suggested. “There must be somebody out there somewhere who knows where they went, and why.”

  “A very good idea,” Collison acknowledged. “I’ll speak to the ACC and see what can be arranged.”

  “There’s something else that has recently come to light,” Metcalfe said. “It seems that a man called on Jack Rowbotham shortly before Taylor’s death. He had been knocking on the door of Wentworth House without success, and came round to ask Rowbotham if Taylor still lived there. Now we have no idea who this man may have been. It seems pretty certain that it wasn’t an official enquiry since the caller didn’t show Rowbotham any ID. But who was he? He may have been something as innocent as a door-to-door salesman, but in that case why didn’t he try to sell Rowbotham anything?”

  “It’s difficult to know where to start on this one,” Collison commented. “Any thoughts would be welcome.”