The House on Downshire Hill

by Guy Fraser-Sampson

  “He’ll be in very shortly for Karen and Priya to take his statement.”

  “Hm, I’d really like to be able to involve Peter Collins, you know. I’d like to get his take on Schneider’s state of mind.”

  “We chatted about that last night, as it happens. His advice is that we shouldn’t do anything to upset him. The slightest little thing could make him change his mind about cooperating with us. He seems to be okay dealing with Karen and Priya, so that’s the way we should keep it for the time being. That’s what Peter says, anyway.”

  “Yes, I must say it makes sense. Very well then, let’s get his statement down as hardcopy, let him sign it, and then see where we go from there. There is that discrepancy by the way, isn’t there? He maintains that he told Rowbotham he was Taylor’s son, but last time we spoke to him Rowbotham was equally adamant that he didn’t. I’m sure Rowbotham is telling the truth, but we should probably re-interview him and get that down in writing.”

  “Is it really significant do you think, guv?”

  “Well, if you’re planning to confront your father – let alone if you might already have some half formed idea about killing him in revenge for having bumped off your girlfriend – you’d hardly divulge your identity to a potential witness, would you? No, it all makes perfect sense.”

  “Of course there something else we haven’t pursued yet.”

  “Which is?”

  “Well think about those other missing girls. If Taylor murdered Sue Barnard, then might he not have murdered them as well? That he could in fact have been a serial killer? And if so, is there any way that somebody else could have found out – a relative of one of the missing girls perhaps – and murdered Taylor by way of revenge?”

  “It’s a bit tenuous isn’t it, Bob? If they had found out something which pointed to Taylor’s guilt why wouldn’t they just come to the police? Whereas we know that John Schneider hates the police and would never willingly set foot in a police station. If he suddenly found out from his mother that Taylor had been seen burying the body of a girl, then it seems much more plausible that he would put two and two together and made the connection with the Barnard girl. I just can’t believe he had no idea the she’d gone missing, just like I don’t believe that he made no effort at all to get in touch with her again. He was a teenager in love, and that sort of strength of feeling doesn’t just disappear overnight.”

  “I’m no psychology expert, guv. It would be useful to get Peter’s take on that.”

  “Yes, let’s do that. Perhaps I could invite myself around for a drink this evening?”

  “You’d be very welcome as always. I’ll give Peter a ring later to make sure he’ll be there.”

  “Right. You know, there’s another possibility that’s been nagging away at me. In fact I couldn’t get to sleep last night for thinking about it. The problem is that I don’t quite see how it fits all the facts.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “Well, suppose that John Schneider is a serial killer. In that case, why shouldn’t Sue Barnard have been his first victim? Perhaps he was upset that she wouldn’t have sex with him, and his anger got the better of him, just like it did with that boy he attacked. We’re assuming that because Conrad Taylor buried Sue Barnard then he must have killed her first, aren’t we? But suppose he didn’t? Suppose he found her dead, having been killed by his son? He might even have found them together, the boy and the girl’s corpse. In the heat of the moment perhaps he felt an overwhelming impulse to protect his son and cover-up what he’d done.”

  “But like you say, guv, that doesn’t fit with our other theory. If Schneider murdered Sue Barnard then he wouldn’t have had any reason to kill his father. You don’t need to avenge something that hasn’t been done.”

  “I’ve been thinking about that. You’re right of course, but there could be another motive. Schneider might be wondering all these years how he got away with it. Just imagine, he must have been dreading a summons back to England to face a police enquiry whenever Susan’s body was found. He must have wondered, all those years, why nothing had happened. Then suddenly he discovers the truth. Susan’s body was never found because his father – literally – covered up for him. That was probably a huge relief, but at the same time a huge worry. It meant that there was somebody out there who knew he was a killer and could shop him to the police at any time. Granted, Taylor had never done anything so far by way of going to the police, but he was getting on a bit and there would always be something like a deathbed confession to worry about.”

  “You mean Schneider was looking to kill his father in order to silence him? To cover his tracks?”

  “Yes, exactly. If we can once believe in Schneider as a serial killer – and there are those unexplained deaths in Canada to consider – then perhaps everything starts to fall into place.”

  “So the murders would indeed be connected because they would both have been committed by the same person?”

  “Exactly, and that would also explain why he failed to tell Rowbotham that he was Conrad Taylor’s son. If he was planning to kill him – or perhaps had even already done so as far as we know – he’d hardly want us to know where to come looking.”

  “It’s an interesting hypothesis, guv, certainly.”

  Collison nodded and pulled a pad out of one of his desk drawers.

  “Which is why I thought it would be useful for you and I to review where we are. It has to be just you and I of course, because there’s stuff we can’t share with the rest of the team.”

  “OK. Where shall we start?”

  “Possibility number one. The obvious suspect, Raj, killed Conrad Taylor when Taylor discovered that he’d been stealing from him. In this scenario we have to assume that the two killings were unconnected, and that Taylor killed Sue Barnard twenty years earlier for reason or reasons unknown.”

  “We’ve been told that Sue Barnard was seen hanging around in Downshire Hill, offering men sexual favours – whether directly or indirectly – haven’t we? And we’ve been told that Taylor and his wife hadn’t been sleeping together for a considerable time. So maybe Taylor took her up on her offer, but something went wrong.”

  “Yes, I was wondering about that as well. You see, if the Barnard girl was on the game – and that’s pretty much what McKenzie’s evidence amounts to – then that would also suggest a possible link to at least one of the other missing girls. It points to the possibility that Taylor was indeed a serial killer preying on sex workers. The problem is we only have one uncorroborated report about what the Barnard girl might have been up to when she wasn’t at school. I’ve been thinking that we might ask Rowbotham about that when we re-interview him. We know that he was dropping in at the house next door in the evenings to check on the building works, so he may well have seen her too. If he had, that would be really helpful.”

  “OK. I’ll arrange for us to see Jack Rowbotham again. And of course we’re also looking for the schoolfriend, Jill East. If Sue Barnard did have any extra-curricular activities then her best friend may have known something about them.”

  Collison nodded to himself and drew a line across the page.

  “Possibility number two. The passport mob in Singapore send someone to silence Raj. That person may or may not have been Sophie Ho. This assassin – as that’s what it amounts to – gains access to Wentworth House but Raj isn’t there. Either they are surprised by Taylor and kill him to prevent him raising the alarm, or they kill him deliberately either to put the frighteners on Raj or to place him under suspicion. Perhaps they even wait a little while to see if Raj returns to the house, but lose patience after a while and leave. If the killer was Sophie Ho then she subsequently takes the opportunity to befriend Priya with the intention of eavesdropping on the enquiry.”

  “There’s a possible problem with that one, guv. We know that Sophie Ho was an expert at martial arts. Someone who was that good at karate could easily kill someone with one blow, so why bash Taylor on the head with some sor
t of blunt instrument?”

  “Who knows? Perhaps precisely so that it wouldn’t look like a professional hit.”

  “I guess so. So again, with this possibility, we are assuming that the two murders are not connected, and that Taylor killed Sue Barnard.”

  “Yes. In which case, of course, Taylor may well have killed again. That’s something we’ll need to investigate in due course.”

  “You mean we’ll have to reopen all those missing persons cases? Reinvestigate them after all these years?”

  “I don’t see that we’d have any choice, Bob, do you? Don’t get me wrong, I’m just as reluctant to do it as you are. Apart from anything else, a lot of potential witnesses may have died in the meantime. But if we do conclude – as seems likely at the moment – that Taylor killed Barnard then we would have to consider the possibility that we have an undiscovered serial killer on our hands.”

  “Talking of undiscovered serial killers, there’s something else I should mention, guv.”

  “Go on.”

  “Well, I was talking to the gay liaison officer and he’s got a bit of a bee in his bonnet about a serial killer having potentially been in operation among middle-aged gay men who frequented the Heath. Apparently there have been two others in recent years, and the MO matches how Taylor was killed: all three were attacked at home and bashed on the head.”

  “I see. OK, then that’s possibility number three, but let’s put that on hold for a moment shall we? That would take us down the path of mounting a completely new investigation.”

  “Right you are, guv. So what’s left?”

  “Possibility number four. Susan Barnard was the first victim of serial killer John Schneider. Conrad Taylor came across her body, whether or not still in her killer’s possession, and decided to cover up his son’s crime rather than shop him to the police. He is spotted in the act of burying her by his wife. Horrified, she snatches both the children and leaves home, never to return. Later, as we know – much later – she tells the children what she saw. John Schneider realises for the first time why he has never been brought to justice for Barnard’s murder, but knows he will always be in danger as long as his father is alive. So he resolves to come back to England and silence him once and for all. He may or may not have succeeded in doing so. If he did, then the call on Rowbotham may have preceded the crime, in which case it would have been a genuine request for information, or it may have happened afterwards and been some sort of muddled attempt to throw us off the track. If this possibility is correct then we may need to liaise with the Canadian police on a joint investigation, looking at the similar missing women cases in Ontario.”

  “There’s always the possibility that Taylor was killed by some random intruder – a burglary gone wrong perhaps.”

  “Very well, Bob. Let’s call that possibility number five. We know that the front door presented little problem to anybody who knew what they were doing; even I was able to open it.”

  Collison drew another line across the page and looked up at Metcalfe.

  “Is there anything we’re overlooking?”

  “I don’t think so. No, I’m sure not. When you think about it, this seemed a pretty open and shut case at the beginning. It looked like it was just a question of finding our prime suspect.”

  “Well he is still our prime suspect, let’s not forget that. Just because things are looking more complicated as other possibilities open up, Raj is still in the frame unless and until something happens to change that. He was taking Taylor’s money, and even if we can’t prove he didn’t have his consent during his lifetime, then that wouldn’t excuse him continuing to plunder the bank account after Taylor’s death. He may or may not have been Taylor’s lover, so there’s always the possibility that a lovers’ tiff exploded into sudden violence. On his own admission he ran away from the crime scene rather than reporting it to the police. He entered the country illegally and absconded from custody. He had links with organised crime … need I go on?”

  “No, and he’s still favourite for me. Don’t forget all the people who said that he behaved very strangely. He certainly gave me the creeps when I met him. Did you notice that he won’t look anyone in the eye? I know it’s not very scientific to rely on instinct, but there’s something very weird about that man.”

  CHAPTER 27

  “I was about to make some dry martinis,” Peter Collins said. “Would that be acceptable to everyone? Oh, what about you, Simon. Are you driving?”

  “No, I’m taking the tube, and a dry martini would be very welcome, thank you.”

  Collins busied himself with pouring a London dry gin into a jug of ice, mixing in a very small quantity of Noilly Prat and then adding a couple of drops of Angostura bitters. He swirled the mixture gently for a while and then poured it into four martini glasses, each already equipped with an olive.

  “Only four glasses?” Collison asked. “Where’s Lisa?”

  “She’s upstairs,” Metcalfe informed him. “She knew we wanted to discuss the case and wouldn’t be able to do it in front of her, so she’s gone to watch some television.”

  “Oh dear, now I feel guilty for having intruded. Silly of me, I should have realised.”

  “Nonsense,” Willis said robustly. “Lisa knows the score. She’s already enough of a copper’s wife to realise that there’s stuff she can’t sit in on.”

  “Excellent martini, Peter,” Metcalfe observed, rolling it appreciatively around with his tongue.

  Collins bowed gravely. He knew full well that until a few months ago Metcalfe had not even known what a dry martini was, but he was of course too much of a gentleman ever to articulate such a thought.

  “So, no surprises with friend Schneider then?” he asked.

  “No, he just confirmed everything he told us yesterday. You’ve seen the statement which he signed.”

  “Yes, I have. I assume you quizzed him in particular on what he said to the neighbour – Rowbotham, is it?”

  “Yes we did, and he’s sticking to his story.”

  “But then he would, wouldn’t he?” Metcalfe broke in. “If he was planning to murder his father – Taylor, that is – he wouldn’t want to advertise his identity, would he?”

  “That’s true,” Collins agreed, “and of course psychopaths tend to lie easily and instinctively; that’s why they’re so good at it.”

  “So you do think he’s a psychopath, Peter?” Willis asked eagerly.

  “I’m sorry if I gave that impression. The truth is I simply can’t tell one way or another; I don’t know nearly enough about him. I’d need to meet him, talk to him, observe him. Then perhaps over time I could come to a view. All I can say at the moment is that – assuming everything we’ve been told is true – he seems to have anger management issues, a disposition to violence, and a lack of empathy for others – particularly women.”

  “Well the lack of empathy at least would be consistent with a psychopathic state, wouldn’t it?” Collison said.

  “Yes, of course it would but there’s much more to it than that, as you know. And even if he were a psychopath, that doesn’t take us very much further. There are lots of psychopaths wandering about out there who don’t become serial killers; some of them are very successful in their careers by the way. That’s an aspect of this case which troubles me, actually.”

  “How do you mean?” Metcalfe asked.

  “Well, I’m a psychologist not a lawyer, but it seems to me that unless some new piece of evidence suddenly emerges then the best we’ll ever be able to do is to show that Schneider may be the sort of person to have committed murder in general terms. But what we need to do is to find some way of showing that he has actually committed at least one of these two specific murders. We’ve been here before, remember. Just because he may fit the profile of a murderer – even perhaps this murderer – that doesn’t prove that he did it.”

  “Of course, of course,” Collison said hastily, “I’m not suggesting for a moment that we head off down that pa
th again.”

  They were all only too well aware that the events in question had resulted in Collins descending into serious mental illness, a condition from which he had been nursed back to health largely thanks to the devotion of Willis.

  “No,” Collison continued, “all I’m asking is whether you think – in the light of all the available information so far – this is a profitable line of enquiry to pursue.”

  “You mean whether I think it’s possible that John Schneider may be a serial killer?”

  “Yes. Do you?”

  Collins took a considered sip of his martini, took out the olive and ate it.

  “Yes I do,” he said calmly, “but again I’d stress that it’s only a possibility.”

  “Forgetting the psychology for a moment,” Metcalfe said, “I have to say that it’s a possibility I like. It’s the only hypothesis that enables the same person to have committed both murders, and I just have this – I don’t know, instinct I suppose – that two murders committed so close to each other, probably even at the same house, just have to be connected in some way.”

  “They could still be connected without having been committed by the same person,” Collins pointed out. “After all, they are separated by a couple of decades.”

  “All true,” Collison admitted. “Perhaps there’s still quite a lot that we simply don’t know. For example, we don’t know anything about our first victim, Susan Barnard, that connects her with any suspect other than John Schneider. If she was murdered by the father – which seems the logical outcome of what the mother saw – then what was his motive?”

  “Could he be a serial killer perhaps?” Collins asked. “With Barnard as his first known victim?”

  “Yes, that’s obviously a possibility we’ve been considering,” Collison replied, “and if we’re going to take it seriously then we’ll have to reopen a lot of missing persons reports and reinvestigate them.”