The House on Downshire Hill

by Guy Fraser-Sampson

  “I still don’t think it’s enough, guv,” Metcalfe replied uncomfortably.

  “No, it may not be,” Collison sighed, “but at least we’ll be doing something.”

  “There is just one thing that might make a difference,” Collins said slowly.

  The other three chorused “what?”, “go on”, and “yes?”, creating in the process much the same sound as many contemporary operas.

  “Well, it’s only just occurred to me, and it’s a very long shot, but what about this? Rowbotham told us that he used to come and go in the evenings to check on the progress of the building work. Well, surely Saturday evening would be a very logical time to visit since even if the builders had been working on a Saturday, they would presumably by then have knocked off for the weekend. Also, he’d have been able to run all his errands during the day, which he wouldn’t have been able to do during the week. I’m just thinking about it, and if I had the choice between heading across London after a hard day’s work and doing so over the weekend, I’d choose the weekend any day of the week – oh dear, no pun intended.”

  The others looked at him uncomprehendingly.

  “Sorry, I’m waffling again, aren’t I? Well, all I mean is this. We have Schneider saying on tape and under caution that the last time he saw Sue Barnard was when they parted at the bus stop after school on Friday. So we can’t place him with Barnard any time later than that; at the time she was murdered, for example. But suppose that Rowbotham was there that Saturday evening and suppose that he saw Barnard hanging around in Downshire Hill, as another witness did although not necessarily on that particular day. But just suppose that she was there and that Rowbotham saw her …”

  “How does that help us? She must’ve been on Downshire Hill sometime late on the Saturday if she was murdered there later that night.”

  “Yes, I know. But just suppose that Rowbotham might have seen Barnard and John Schneider together? You see, my alternative hypothesis depends upon John Schneider having had a motive for killing Sue Barnard, and what might that have been?”

  “Perhaps that he wanted sex with her – full sex I mean – and she wouldn’t give him what she wanted?” Collison suggested.

  “Yes, that would work, but if that were the case then why should he suddenly have snapped now? I got the impression that he’d asked her quite a few times and always got the same response. No, I have another idea in mind.”

  Being the only one not on duty, he was able at this time to sip gravely at his gin and tonic.

  “Suppose that Schneider saw Barnard soliciting in Downshire Hill. Can you imagine how angry that would have made him? Firstly just the fact that she was on the game, and parading the fact right outside his own house. Surely his over-active male ego would have felt humiliated by that. And then there was the fact that she was apparently offering to other men what she was withholding from him. From what I’ve been able to learn of his personality, Schneider would almost certainly have exploded. And if she was with him at the time then it’s entirely possible that he killed her there and then.”

  “Peter, I think you’re onto something,” Willis said excitedly. “After all, he said during our interview with him that if he’d had any inkling that she was up to that sort of thing then he’d–”

  “That he’d do something, yes, although he wasn’t specific about what the ‘something’ was. But I think we can guess, can’t we?”

  “Well, it’s something anyway,” Collison said brightly. “Bob, why don’t you give Jack Rowbotham a ring and ask if he can come round to the station this afternoon to give us another statement?”

  He finished his orange juice with every appearance of distaste, and then put the glass back down on the table with a sharp tap.

  CHAPTER 35

  “I’m very sorry to have to drag you here again, Mr Rowbotham,” Collison began. “To be honest, we’ve come to something of a dead end and we are desperately trying to find something that will help us kickstart the investigation.”

  “But you’ve got Raj in custody, haven’t you? I thought I read in the press that you’d charged him with Conrad’s murder.”

  “Yes, that’s quite true but no formal decision has yet been taken actually to prosecute him. That’s down to the Crown Prosecution Service you know. But even allowing for that, we have a couple of problems.”

  “Oh yes?”

  “Yes. The first is that – and I probably shouldn’t be telling you this but I just want to make sure that you understand the context of this conversation – we actually have another potential suspect for Conrad’s killing. The second point – and its related because the same suspect is involved – is that I have to believe the two murders were in some way connected even though they were separated by a period of 20 years or so. Raj was a child at the time of Sue Barnard’s murder, and living thousands of miles away. So if he did kill Conrad Taylor then that’s inconsistent with any theory about the two crimes being connected.”

  “But if a hypothesis is inconsistent with the known facts then surely one abandons the hypothesis and forms a new one? That’s what I was taught at university anyway.”

  Collison smiled.

  “Yes, you’re quite right of course. Actually I do recognise it as a weakness in myself that I’m sometimes too slow to abandon a hypothesis. But anyway, we’d like to ask you about a couple of matters in particular.”

  “Fire away, Superintendent.”

  “Now I know you’ve answered this question before, but it’s become a point of some importance. Can you remember exactly what John Schneider said to you – he was your mystery visitor – when he came calling at your house?”

  “Oh, so that’s who it was? Yes, he asked me if Conrad still lived next door.”

  “Now, I have to be very careful not to put words into your mouth, Mr Rowbotham, but I’d like you to try to remember exactly what was said. See if you can remember the actual conversation.”

  “I think he said ‘can you tell me if Mr Taylor still lives next door’ or something like that.”

  “Okay, this could be really significant. That’s why we are recording this interview and that’s why we need you to be as precise as possible. Are you sure that he said Taylor rather than Schneider?”

  Rowbotham gazed at the wall and frowned as he thought.

  “Take your time,” Collison urged him.

  “You know, I think I am sure,” he said slowly. “After all, I’ve always thought of Conrad as Conrad Taylor, so it would have seemed very odd suddenly to have heard him called something else. I’m sure I would remember that. So yes, he said Taylor.”

  “OK, I’m now going to ask you what barristers would call a leading question, but I don’t see there’s any other way of doing this. Did he make any mention of Conrad Taylor being his father? Did he say ‘I’m looking for my father, can you tell me if he still lives next door?’ or anything like that.”

  “No, absolutely not. I would definitely have remembered if he’d said something like that. I had no idea he was Conrad’s son.”

  Collison and Metcalfe looked at each other. It was something at least.

  “Now, I’d like to turn your attention to the first murder, the killing of Susan Barnard. We know that she went missing on a Saturday evening and we were just wondering whether you might have visited the house at all that weekend. If it helps jog your memory, we believe it was 26th October.”

  “No, I can tell you straightaway that I wouldn’t have been there that weekend.”

  “How can you be so sure? It was 20 years ago after all.”

  “Oh, I can be very sure. You see, my birthday is on the 25th and I would have had my mother staying with me at my flat from the Friday evening right through the weekend. I would probably have gone to pick her up after I finished work.”

  “Oh, that is disappointing. By the way, just for the record, would your mother be able to confirm that?”

  “I’m afraid not. She died a few years ago. But I can be absolutely certain. Yo
u see it was a fixed routine with us; we always used to spend my birthday together, and when it fell over a weekend then she used to stay for a few days.”

  “Can you remember when you would last have visited the house – prior to the 26th, I mean?”

  “No, I can’t, but it would probably have been one evening earlier that week. I tried to drop in every few days just to keep an eye on things. The builders turned out to be a bit of a disappointment, I’m afraid. They ran way over time and left the place in a dreadful mess. I had to get some industrial cleaners in before I could move in myself.”

  “Well, there is one other thing you may be to help us with. You see, we’ve heard from a couple of different people that Sue Barnard may have been offering to have sex with men for money. That she used to call out to men in the street as they went past, presumably in the hope that she could engage them in conversation and then proposition them. I know it seems hard to believe, a nice girl from a respectable family, but as I say we’ve heard the same story from two different people so we have to take it seriously.”

  “Go on. What do you want to know?”

  “We’ve heard that Downshire Hill might have been one of her patches as it were. That she might actually have been parading herself up and down the road, perhaps even outside your house. Now please cast your mind back. When you used to visit the house in the evenings to check on the building works do you remember ever having seen a young girl hanging around in Downshire Hill? Perhaps she might even have called out to you?”

  “A young girl, you say?”

  “She was only 15 actually, but could look a lot older. You know, with heels and make up, and things. If it helps, here’s her photo.”

  Rowbotham slid it across the table towards himself and studied it intently.

  “You know, now you come to mention it, I think I did see her, maybe a week or two before that. I was walking down the hill from Hampstead tube station and as I turned into Downshire Hill a girl did call out to me. I’m not sure I could swear to it being this particular girl though. It was a long time ago.”

  “Can you remember what she said?”

  “I think she asked if I’d like to buy her a drink. Something like that anyway.”

  “I do appreciate that it’s a very long time ago, but can you remember anything about her at all? Anything that might help us to identify her?”

  Again, Rowbotham thought hard.

  “Yes, I think I can. You see she was wearing a pink raincoat, and the light coming from the shop window on the corner made it seem really bright. Almost like a Hopper painting or something like that.”

  “You’re a fan of Hopper, are you?”

  “Yes, I am. I must admit I’m not a great one for abstract art, but I do like something that paints a scene, something you can identify with.”

  “Yes, I’m with you there. Now just to be clear, Mr Rowbotham, when you saw this girl was she on her own or with anybody else?”

  “On her own definitely.”

  “I see. Oh well, it was worth a try I suppose.”

  “I’m sorry. Have I been a disappointment?”

  “Not at all. All you can do is tell us what you saw and heard, and you’ve done that very well, so thank you very much. Oh, I almost forgot. We owe you a debt of gratitude for your assistance in apprehending Raj as well, don’t we?”

  “Well, all I did was pass on the sighting I had of him to that nice lady Constable. Oh, I should say Sergeant now, shouldn’t I?”

  “Yes you should,” Metcalfe agreed with a grin as he closed his notebook and put his pen away.

  “Interview terminated at 1620,” Collison said as he looked at the clock and Metcalfe reached out to turn off the tape recorder.

  “Well, I can’t tell you how much we appreciate you making yourself available like this, Mr Rowbotham. Hopefully we won’t have to trouble you again but depending on how we decide to proceed you may be called upon to give evidence in court in due course.”

  “No problem at all. Always happy to help.”

  •

  The ticking of the clock in the incident room seemed unnaturally loud and reminded Collison all too clearly that the enquiry was literally running out of time.

  “Well, there you are. We’ve had one last throw of the dice, and it’s moved us forward a little, but whether it’s enough I really can’t say. You’ve all had a chance to see the transcript of our meeting with Jack Rowbotham this afternoon which is hot off the press. You’ll see that according to his evidence, and contrary to what Schneider told us under caution, there was no mention of Conrad Taylor being his father when he called on Rowbotham, and nor did he use the name Schneider. I would argue that the only logical explanation of this was that he was deliberately trying to conceal his identity. And that this would be consistent with him having just visited Wentworth House and murdered his father.”

  “By way of revenge for the murder of Sue Barnard, sir?” Evans asked.

  “That’s what his sister would have believed, yes, and that’s why it was important for him to conceal the fact that he’d been able to gain access to the house. But in reality, it’s possible that he was killing his father in order to silence him. In order that he would never be able to cast doubt on the mother’s story. To conceal the fact that it was not her husband whom Mrs Schneider had seen burying Sue Barnard but her son. Because it was the son who killed her.”

  There was a long pause. Finally, it was broken by Godwin.

  “I get the fact that he lied, sir, but … excuse me if I’m missing something here … but, well, the rest is just supposition isn’t it? I mean, I get it like I say, but how are we going to prove it?”

  “That is the question,” Collison replied heavily. “Like you say, Susan, there’s a lot of supposition but not enough proof. Why, apart from the fact that we are assuming she was killed there, we can’t even place our first victim at the scene or with any of our suspects. There is ample evidence that she was turning tricks in the immediate vicinity, but no sighting of her on the evening in question.”

  The minute hand of the clock, which seemed to have been poised for an eternity at one minute to six finally jerked upright. As if on cue there was a knock at the door and a uniformed constable stepped into the room.

  “Personal call for you, Superintendent. It’s the ACC’s office.”

  “Thank you, Constable. I’ll take it in my office.”

  He felt a rising sense of panic as he moved towards the door. He really had no idea what he was going to do but he knew he only had for as long as it took him to walk upstairs to make up his mind.

  Suddenly, from behind him, Desai, who had been staring at something in the file with a growing frown, called out “sir, wait …”

  CHAPTER 36

  Mr Justice Ingram scratched his nose with the end of a pencil reflectively as he gazed at the two notes which his clerk had just placed before him. The good news was that there was steak and kidney pie for lunch in the judges’ dining room; he ticked the box and handed the slip back to the hovering clerk. The bad news was that England were 28 for 3 against Australia.

  His gaze swept the waiting courtroom. Seated away by the jury was the leading defence counsel, Andrew Fuller QC. His presence had added a certain frisson to the proceedings as the seat on the High Court bench to which the honourable Mr Justice Ingram had but recently been appointed – together with its accompanying knighthood – had been widely rumoured to be reserved for Fuller until he had been unfortunate enough to fall under suspicion for the murder of his wife. The fact that he was appearing for the defence also spoke volumes as to the sharpness with which his stock had fallen in official circles; he could normally have expected to have been offered the prosecution brief in such an important case. Important enough that Mr Justice Ingram had been dragged from the rarefied atmosphere of the Royal Courts of Justice discussing the small print of commercial contracts to sit as a red judge at the Old Bailey.

  He consulted his notes and then began his summ
ing up.

  “Members of the jury, may I first thank you all for your long and untiring attention to what has been a very difficult case. Very shortly I will ask you to retire and consider your verdict but first there are certain points which I would draw to your attention.”

  “In this case the same person stands accused of having committed two murders, each separated from the other by some 20 years or so. Yet, as you have heard, the prosecution believe that the cases were in fact connected. Mr Barratt has presented a hypothesis under which the accused murdered Sue Barnard – for reasons which remain unclear but may well have had something to do with an argument over the provision of sexual services – and, in a fit of panic at what he had done, hid the body on a temporary basis in the back garden until he could decide what to do with it. You should note, as you have been shown on the plan of the properties concerned, that at the time the two back gardens were effectively one, since the fence previously dividing them had been removed for building works.”

  “Imagine the accused’s surprise, as Mr Barratt invited you to do, when that night Conrad Taylor – or Schneider as he was then known – found the body and buried it, presumably with the intention of covering up for his son, John Schneider, whom he believed to be the girl’s killer. In reality, Mr Barratt says, this belief was erroneous. Susan Barnard had in fact been killed by the accused, Rowbotham, who lived in the house next door.”

  Andrew Fuller QC gave the merest hint of rising to his feet. It was such a well-practised manoeuvre from such a consummate courtroom performer that the merest hint was sufficient.

  “Let me amplify that last statement,” the judge said smoothly. “The accused had recently become the owner of the house next door but was not actually living there at the time in question. He does admit however that he was in the habit of making regular visits to check on the progress of the building works which he had commissioned, and it is the prosecution’s case that he was in fact there that night.”

  “We have heard from two separate witnesses that the burial of Susan Barnard was witnessed by Judith Schneider, Conrad’s wife, who happened to glance out of an upstairs window and see what was happening. Deeply shocked, and quite naturally believing that it was Conrad himself who had killed the girl, she hustled both her children out of the house first thing next morning never to return. We have heard that she took the children to live with a relative in Canada and only told them what she had seen shortly before she died a year or so ago.”