The Solomon Gray Series Box Set

by Keith Nixon

  “He’s always been good to me.”

  “Do you deserve to go to prison, Craig?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  Carslake could scream. “No. You don’t. Now tell me, who did you see coming out of the house?”

  Craig thought for a long moment. He cast his eyes downward and eventually muttered, “Mr Usher.”

  Carslake leaned on the bedstead for support, he was so relieved. “Well done, Craig. Don’t speak about this for now. Keep it to yourself, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “I’ve got to go.”

  “Bye.”

  “Get some sleep.”

  Carslake slipped out, and not a moment too soon because within half a minute James was back. He’d done it, he’d persuaded Craig, the simpleton. All the lad had to do now was speak up at the right time.

  Twenty Two

  Then

  When Gray returned to Craig’s room he found Molly had gone. James was leaning against the wall, looking out the window at a view of the car park. Craig was in bed, asleep. James turned to face Gray.

  “Where’s Molly?”

  “Gone out for a walk to clear her head and calm down. What do you want?”

  Gray raised the DNA test kit. “I’m to take a swab from Craig. For analysis against our findings from the crime scene. Has he eaten or drunk anything in the last hour?”

  “No, and I’m not sure I can give you permission. I’m not his dad.”

  “Molly just did, in the corridor.”

  “Oh.”

  “You didn’t get the chance to say much earlier.”

  “As I said, I’m not Craig’s dad, so I don’t blame Molly for taking control of the conversation.”

  “Would you consider him capable of hurting Valerie?”

  “There’s no way. He’d rather have hurt himself.”

  “It appears he did hurt himself though.”

  James shook his head. “He’s a good kid. Great to spend time with. It’s just not everybody gets him.”

  “So what do you think happened?”

  James sighed. “I’ve really no idea. Molly and I have talked about it incessantly over the last few hours. Our only thought was Craig was trying to protect Val. But it’s all speculation.”

  The door opened. Molly entered closing the door behind her.

  “DC Gray is here to take a swab from Craig,” said James.

  “I know,” said Molly. “Go ahead, Constable. Let me wake him up, though.”

  Gray stood back while Molly shook Craig’s shoulder. He stirred, groggy, presumably from the drugs.

  “Craig, darling. The policeman would like to take a sample from your mouth. Is that okay? Show him, Constable.”

  Gray held up the swab, a broad cotton tip on a stick, in its packet.

  “All right,” said Craig wearily.

  Gray pulled on a pair nitrile gloves which came in the kit before he tore the packaging. “Open up please, Craig.”

  Gray rubbed the swab around the inside of Craig’s cheek before putting it into a plastic vial and screwing the top on.

  “You can close your jaw now,” said Molly. Craig did so. He shut his eyes and nodded off to sleep again. “Is that everything you need?”

  “Yes, and thank you again.”

  “No problem, I’ll walk you out.”

  “There’s no need.”

  “I insist.”

  In the corridor Molly was stopped by a nurse, petite and with dark skin. “How is everything?” she asked, touching Molly on the arm.

  “Fine thanks, Bridget.” Molly nodded towards Gray. “I’m just with the police right now.”

  “Oh, sorry. I’ll see you later.” The nurse walked away without a glance at Gray.

  “I’m getting a coffee from the machine,” said Molly, “do you want anything?”

  “I’ve had plenty, thanks,” said Gray.

  Molly led him to a small waiting area off the corridor. Gray waited while she fed coins into the machine, wondering what she had to say away from James. When she had the cup, Molly pointed to a chair. Gray sat. She took a place opposite.

  “Craig, he has a few behavioural issues.”

  “Like what?”

  “He’s not the fastest learner.” Molly frowned. “I had difficulties giving birth. His brain was starved of oxygen for too long. He’s a lovely lad, but he’s a bit slow and sometimes he doesn’t interact well with people.”

  “How so?”

  “He doesn’t always understand how to respect boundaries.”

  “Your husband said he was tactile.”

  “It’s not been easy raising Craig, you know?”

  “I can imagine.”

  “Do you have children?”

  “Yes. A boy and a girl.”

  “Are both healthy?”

  “Thankfully, yes.”

  “Then you can only half get it. Craig’s father left soon after he was born. I spent years on my own dealing with all the challenges until James came along. I know people see the age gap, wonder why we’re together, but we get along great. That’s what matters.” She had a sip of the drink. “I’m sorry Valerie’s dead, but I’m glad too. Is that a terrible thing?”

  “It’s not unusual.”

  “I hated James working there, but we need the money. I’m a nurse here, and it’s not a well-paying job, unfortunately.”

  “Why was it a problem that James was working at Valerie’s?”

  “Because of her. Valerie. She was always on the lookout for a new man, an escape from her husband. She was a few years ahead of me at school. She was the same back then. A gold digger. Difficult when you live in Thanet. Not a lot glitters on the island.”

  “Was she interested in James?”

  A look of irritation passed across Molly’s face. “I don’t know for sure. James says no, but I’m not certain. I mean, he’s a handsome man, so who could blame her?" She paused. "And who could blame him for wanting Valerie over me?”

  “I don’t know, Mrs Mundby.”

  “I’ve spent my life fighting, Constable Gray. But keeping James from her has been the toughest fight of them all.” She put the cup down, closed her eyes, and nodded to herself as if she’d made a decision. “I think you need to take a swab from my husband too.”

  ***

  Gray parked at the back of the station, shoving the car in a tight space everyone else had avoided. Carslake was out as soon as the vehicle stopped, squeezing through the gap, striding into the building, report under his arm, Gray in his wake.

  “About bloody time,” said Copeland when the pair entered one of the meeting spaces off the Major Incident Room. It was just the three of them. The DI liked his meetings to be circumspect; no regular, large gatherings for him unless they were worthwhile. His juniors were responsible for cascading the actions and news down through the ranks. Copeland reckoned it kept minds focused on the case, particularly his own.

  This was Gray’s first intimate briefing with the big man himself. He was well aware it wasn’t a reflection of enhanced status. Simply that he’d been first responder. Which meant Copeland couldn’t jettison him.

  Copeland took the report from Carslake, pointed towards the seats on the other side of the table. Gray waited for his inspector to finish; irritated with being made to sit here when he had plenty to get on with. Copeland separated the photos and spread them out across the surface. He took his time staring at one image after another. Gray noticed Carslake looking everywhere but the table.

  Finally Copeland spoke.

  “I should tell you two the latest,” he said. “Brazier has done some good work for once. He said the bedroom was spotless. Vacuumed and wiped down, so there’s virtually no trace evidence available for analysis.”

  “Jenkinson said Mrs Usher’s corpse was pristine too.”

  “Meaning Craig Mundby strangled Valerie, then cleaned up before he tried to kill himself,” said Carslake.

  “That’s one explanation.” Copeland picked up the
report again. “There’s several scenarios. Either, as you say, Craig killed her, then stuck around before slashing his wrists. Or Valerie was murdered, and the killer dressed the scene up as a murder suicide.”

  “Why would he do that? It makes no sense,” said Gray.

  “Remorse, perhaps?” said Carslake.

  “We need to know who had sex with Valerie before she died,” said Copeland. “That’s the key. And have you been to the security company yet, Sol? I want the CCTV footage from the camera outside Valerie’s house.”

  “Not yet, sir.”

  “What are you waiting for? Get going!”

  Twenty Three

  Now

  As Gray left Copeland’s house, Usher covered his face up with a hand in case Gray glanced in his direction. He didn’t. Gray just headed back to where he was staying for the night. Telfer had parked in the opposite direction, assuming correctly that Gray was unlikely to head in the more rural direction.

  Earlier, Usher had watched Gray enter Copeland’s place. He’d dealt with the intervening time watching the small world of Wetheral go about its business. He was used to long stretches of time with nothing happening. The only event of interest was when Copeland’s wife exited. She drove away in a smart 4x4 Mercedes.

  “What now?” asked Telfer. “Go and see him?”

  “We keep waiting.”

  “How long?”

  Usher didn’t reply, there was no need. Copeland, dressed in wellington boots, wax jacket, and flat cap, withdrew. Two dogs shot past him. He pulled the door to, then got walking, swinging a cane with every other stride. Copeland navigated the road and crossed the green.

  “Wait here,” said Usher before sliding out. He followed Copeland, remaining a few hundred yards behind. The path turned into a muddy trail which ran beside a river. Usher paid no heed to the mire; he’d be dumping everything he wore when it was done anyway.

  After a few minutes, the path emerged from the greenery. Just ahead were the yellow-brick arches of Corby Bridge, a Victorian viaduct which stretched across the river. Usher paused. Copeland was just standing there, staring at the river. The dogs gambolled about, ignored by their master. Glancing up and down the path to ensure they were alone, Usher decided here was as good as anywhere.

  Copeland wasn’t aware of Usher’s approach until they were standing side by side. The irritated expression on his face dropped as soon as he recognised the man beside him.

  “Nice chat with Sergeant Gray?” asked Usher.

  “What do you want?”

  To Usher’s disappointment Copeland stumbled over his words.

  “Where’s the big man I once knew?” he mocked the retired policeman.

  Spurred into sudden action, Copeland made his way past Usher. But he didn’t get far. Usher grabbed his arm, his grip not allowing him to proceed.

  “What do you want?” repeated Copeland.

  “Did you kill her?”

  “It wasn’t me!”

  Usher stared deep into Copeland’s eyes as he had done with many others in the past, when he was beating confessions out of men who’d crossed him. He believed Copeland.

  “Was it Gray?”

  “Let me go.” Copeland tried and failed to shake off Usher’s grip.

  “I don’t think so.” Usher back handed Copeland, who staggered backwards a few steps with the blow. Copeland put fingers to his lips, came away with blood. Copeland ran but Usher was faster and was on him within twenty yards. Usher barrelled into Copeland’s back, knocking him sprawling onto the hard ground, his cane spinning away. Usher heard the breath explode out of Copeland’s lungs. Usher leaned down, grabbed a bunch of the old man’s clothes and began to drag him towards the river. Copeland struggled, flailing at Usher.

  “Help! Help me!” shouted Copeland, but there was nobody around to hear him.

  Usher stepped into the river, ignoring the cold bite of the current as it coursed around and through his legs. Copeland began to buck and heave but Usher dragged him out further, until the water was around his thighs. In desperation, Copeland bit down on Usher’s restraining hand, but Usher grabbed Copeland’s ear and twisted hard until he screamed. Usher forced Copeland’s head under water. Copeland thrashed, but Usher was much stronger. Eventually, the thrashing lessened. It took less than a minute before Copeland went limp. Usher held him beneath the surface for a while longer before he let go. Copeland floated away, face down.

  Usher walked back up onto the bank, his chest heaving with the effort and the adrenalin. He picked up Copeland’s walking cane and tossed it into the water. The dogs whined and shook their tails, uncertain of what had just occurred. Usher patted one on the head and walked back towards the car. Someone would find Copeland’s corpse soon.

  Twenty Four

  Then

  Gray paused outside the offices of Raptor Security in Ramsgate. The logo was a side shot of a dinosaur; a T-Rex with the strapline, “Our protection bites”. It reminded Gray of the film Jurassic Park. Thanet was about as far away culturally as you could get from Hollywood.

  Raptor was located on a narrow back street near the Royal Harbour, one of those strange arrangements where terraced residential houses nestled up, cheek by jowl, against commercial ventures. Double yellows stretched all along the street. Even a badly positioned bicycle would block the road. There was limited parking adjacent to the building. A van with Raptor livery on the side pulled out, leaving a space for Gray.

  An alarm beeped when Gray opened the door and stepped inside. The reception area was a small hallway painted white and brightly lit thanks to a large window which occupied most of the front wall. A set of stairs ran upwards, beneath which was a table and chairs. A door next to the stairs opened and a young Indian woman wearing a short skirt stepped out.

  “Can I help?” she asked.

  Gray showed his warrant card. “I’m here to see the owner.”

  “Nathan? I’ll just see if he’s available. What’s it regarding please?”

  “One of his installations.”

  “I’ll be right back.”

  But she wasn’t. Gray waited for a good ten minutes before someone descended the stairs. Halfway down, a man with a shiny bald head and a bushy beard paused, bending over so he could see into the reception area.

  “Sergeant Gray? I’m Nathan Wade. Do you want to come up?”

  Gray followed Wade up the stairs. Wade said, “Get this weather, it’s crazy for the time of year, isn’t it?”

  “I haven’t really been paying attention.”

  Wade, who was a good foot taller than Gray, had paused at the top and held open the door. “Too busy catching crooks? Ha ha.”

  “If you like, sir.”

  The smile slipped from Wade’s face. Gray passed Wade and entered his office, which possessed a view over the street through expansive windows. The house opposite felt close enough to lean across and touch. There was a pale wooden desk – its surface empty except for a laptop – and a leather recliner opposite the desk. Beyond were a couple of chairs around a table which Wade directed Gray to. On the walls were large photos on stretched canvas of various tourist spots from Thanet.

  “Take a seat, please. I’m sorry I kept you. Somebody wouldn’t get off the phone. I understand there’s a problem with one of my alarms?”

  “Not as such,” said Gray. “I’m after some information about the security at a property on Castle Avenue.”

  “Okay. Let me take a look.” Wade collected his laptop and placed it on the table. “What’s the house number?”

  Gray told him.

  “Duncan Usher,” said Wade, not needing to drag the data out of his system. He sat back. “I did this one myself. Our top-of-the-range products throughout; monitored alarm, individual key codes, CCTV, the works.”

  “Not Mrs Usher?”

  “No, it was Duncan who commissioned the work. I’ve known him quite a while.”

  “You mentioned a monitored alarm, if someone trips it who gets notified?”


  “Raptor does. We’ve got twenty-four-hour cover. When we get an alert, we contact the customer. If there’s no answer, we call the police immediately. There’s a running log of every activity at the property when it comes to the security elements. I can access the information right now on my laptop, if you like.”

  “Please. For Saturday in particular.”

  Wade tapped away at the keys before spinning it around so the screen faced Gray.

  “What am I looking at?” asked Gray.

  Wade moved beside Gray’s shoulder. He bent over and pointed at a line. “See here, this tells me if the alarm is switched on or off, whether it’s the whole house inside and outside, if the occupant is out for the day, or just the external sensors for when people are inside but want to be aware if somebody is breaking in. There’s a panic alarm by the bed too.”

  Gray hadn’t been aware of that.

  “I can tell you,” said Wade, “that the alarm was switched off the entire day. The gates were closed, but later opened and remained so from just after 8 p.m.”

  “The key codes, who sets those?”

  Wade returned to his seat. “They’re supplied with a factory number which is 0000. The client changes them at installation.”

  “So you don’t know what they are?”

  “No.”

  “What if there’s a problem, and you need to gain access?”

  “There’s an override code. There has to be.”

  “Is it only you who has the code?”

  “Usually, yes.”

  “Not always?”

  Wade shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “No.”

  “Did you give Duncan Usher the override?”

  “It’s not illegal to do so.”

  “Answer the question, please.”

  “He wanted it.”

  “So Duncan Usher could walk into the house at any time he pleased?”

  “Yes.”

  Twenty Five

  Now

  Gray woke feeling groggy. He checked his watch, surprised to see an hour and a half had passed. He’d only meant to get five minutes’ rest. Copeland would more than likely be waiting for him. Gray headed downstairs. He wandered through the bar but didn’t see Copeland. He sat at a small table and ordered a coffee to rouse himself.