Rowe’s gaze returned to the floor so Zander pressed his advantage. ‘Tell me!’
‘Once, I did it once. All those bodies, it was disgusting. I said I wouldn’t do it again, and we fell out. It was never the same between us after that.’
His solicitor jumped to his feet. ‘This is all total conjecture. You don’t have a single speck of proof. Not to mention this has absolutely nothing to do with any murder.’
Zander jolted to his feet too, leaned forward, planted his hands wide on the table, and glowered at the panicking man. ‘Now, what else have you only done once?’
59
DI Barton
Barton and Zander stepped outside.
‘I didn’t see that coming,’ said Barton.
‘No, what do you reckon?’
‘Let’s speak to the boss. I suppose we take the email address and send this married man a message, saying we need him back. Although if he receives that, he won’t be in any rush to return home.’
‘No, I shouldn’t think he’d want to answer any questions about his friends here or over there.’
They found DCI Cox in her office. Barton updated her, and she jotted down the pertinent details. ‘The plot thickens. One day we’ll have a straightforward case.’
‘Do we charge him?’ asked Barton.
‘Yes. He’s involved in something underhand. He’s lied to us and is clearly a flight risk. Get his phone unlocked and everything on it downloaded. Ensure the team complete the paperwork for the telecoms records and see what’s recoverable from his laptop. The report from the forensic anthropologists will be back soon, but that’s probably not going to tell us much. Let’s hope we match some DNA from the crime scenes.’
‘Done,’ said Barton. ‘Now, what are we missing?’
‘Who’s in the incident room?’ asked Cox.
Barton scratched his head. ‘Just Clavell and Malik.’
‘Get them in here and update them. We’ll run a quick meeting.’
Zander fetched them and Barton observed their faces as he mentioned Cambodia. Cox hadn’t batted an eyelid at the mention of sex tourism, but newer detectives often couldn’t hide their revulsion. Barton knew they would harden in time.
Clavell seemed particularly perturbed. ‘That little weasel lied to cover up their orgies?’
‘All mere conjecture at this point. We’re going to have a brainstorm.’
Cox pulled over the flip chart she kept behind her desk. ‘Throw stuff at me. Think out of the box.’
Clavell visibly brightened. ‘It was a love triangle. Rowe had been sleeping with both men. They fought over him. Stone lost.’
Malik grinned. ‘Stone was a drug addict. The dealers came to collect. He failed to pay, and they took him in Rowe’s car, murdered him, and dumped the remains in the allotment.’
‘Why would they use Rowe’s car?’ asked Cox.
Malik shrugged. ‘Oh, yeah.’
Clavell almost shouted. ‘It was a brothel. They were all involved. Stone got taken out for being indiscreet.’
‘There could easily be someone else involved, maybe connected, maybe not,’ said Malik.
‘What about Whitlam?’ asked Clavell.
‘Good point,’ said Cox. ‘You’re tight with him, Malik. He must have seen some of their movements. Give him a ring and ask him what he knows about Rowe’s love life, or Stone’s for that matter. See if he remembers a lot of different cars turning up. We’ll be able to find out who the boyfriend is from all these sources; it’s just going to take time. Once we spring the name on Rowe, he’ll have to talk.’
Barton tapped his finger on the table. ‘We could still just charge him with murder. I’ve enjoyed these other ideas but, at the end of the day, the gold watch and car trip to Wisbech put Rowe right in the middle of it. Once he’s locked up, he can’t get in touch with his boyfriend as he won’t have email. If he wants to ring anyone, he has to fill in a form. We’ll ask prison security to monitor that and inform us of his requests.’
Cox nodded. ‘Even if we had an extradition agreement with Cambodia, it’s a long, drawn out process. Better Rowe’s boyfriend knows nothing of this, and we nick him when he arrives back in the country.’
‘Agreed,’ said Barton.
‘We’ll need to put this guy on an ACCT after breaking the news to him.’
‘Well remembered,’ said Barton. ACCT stood for Assessment, Care in Custody, and Teamwork, and would guarantee that Rowe would be observed regularly while in custody. If any man was at risk of suicide, it was Rowe. If he’d been up to no good in Asia and participated in a murder, his immediate outlook looked bleak in the extreme.
‘Do you know what I actually meant?’ said Clavell.
The others stared blankly at him.
‘What if Whitlam’s involved? He only lives two doors down. He could have had a fight with Stone.’
Malik laughed out loud. ‘You mean instead of a love triangle, it’s a love square. Perhaps Whitlam killed Stone, then broke into Rowe’s house when he was out, hid the watch, drove to Wisbech in Rowe’s car, left the body, and then parked it back up without Rowe knowing.’
Zander smiled. ‘He’s not the warmest guy we employ, but that might be pushing it. Isn’t he engaged to a woman, so probably not using male prostitutes?’
‘I heard his fiancée’s related to the bloke who drowned,’ replied Clavell.
Barton strode to the door and opened it. ‘You seem to have your paws in many pies, Mr Clavell. You’re aware what gossip does?’
Clavell shook his head.
‘It steals reputations. Whitlam’s a careerist. Talk like that will finish his. Besides, I’ve met a lot of dumb cops in my time, but not one daft enough to murder their neighbour.’
Barton blew out a big breath. They hadn’t asked for DNA analysis on Somerville when they’d dragged him from the rowing lake because it had looked like an accident. That was a mistake. It was time to get it done.
60
The Soul Killer
I’ve parked at the cinema intending to go in, but everywhere I look there are couples. I know my angry thoughts shouldn’t be directed at them, but I bet they don’t appreciate what they have. My eyes burn into a laughing pair who hold hands as they saunter past. She looks a little like Claudia did, before all this madness began.
‘What you looking at, freak?’ He slams my bonnet with his free hand.
I’m out of the car before I even realise it. He and I stand eyeball to eyeball. I want to bury my thumbs in his sockets. My teeth grind as I strain to stop my hands raising.
His girlfriend recognises the danger and pulls on his arm. ‘Terry, please, leave it. Come on.’
Incredibly, a sneering Terry leans back and spits in my face. I can’t help smiling, laughing even. My shoulders shake. His arrogance drains away but it takes me showing him my home-made warrant card before he fully appreciates his mistake. I was in civvies in the one I returned but the public only look at the picture, and this one is of me in police uniform. He stutters as my arm reaches around and I squeeze his neck tight from behind. I lean into his ear.
‘Where’s your car?’
He points to a yellow hot hatch, to which I drag him over, leaving his snivelling partner stricken with fear.
‘Unlock it. Open the door.’ I ram him into his seat and grab his ear. ‘I know your car, and soon I’ll know where you live. If you break the law again, you will die.’
I twist his earlobe. He doesn’t fight back now, just winces in pain. His girlfriend weeps as she clambers in next to him. He drives away swiftly, but I notice with a smirk that he doesn’t speed.
Blood pounds in my forehead, but as quickly as it starts the tension fades and stops. By the time I return to my car, I can barely remember what the fuss was all about, although my face smells faintly of popcorn. Malik’s name lights up on my phone. I contemplate ignoring it, but can’t stop myself answering.
‘Yes, Malik.’
‘David, I cannot believe you didn
’t tell them you pulled Somerville out the water that night when he became a floater. What were you thinking?’
‘Clearly not very straight. You know how I feel about this girl. I didn’t want to mess it up, and now I’ve done just that.’
‘Hopefully Professional Standards will only give you a warning.’
‘Yeah. What’s up? Are you going to work out at the gym later? I reckon it might be weird for me to carry on with Barton and Strange in there.’
There’s an unpleasant pause as Malik considers whether he’d like to be seen working out with a suspended officer. I can’t recall the rules, but suspect he’d have to report any contact. Instead he chooses to ignore the question.
‘Anyway, I’m not ringing about that. Cox told me to ask what you remember about Rowe’s and Stone’s visitors.’
‘Why’s that?’
‘They searched Rowe’s house and found a watch that belonged to Stone.’
‘No way. Case closed, then.’
‘Yep, and the ANPR system tagged Rowe’s car going to Wisbech at the time we reckon the body was placed there.’
‘It must be Rowe, then. To be honest, I’m surprised. I didn’t think he had it in him. He’d been moaning about the music for ages, but I never expected him to act on it.’
‘Well, Barton and Zander still aren’t sure. They reckon there’s someone else involved. You are not going to believe this next bit. Rowe was dead cagey when it came to being questioned. Turns out he and his boyfriend have been up to no good in Cambodia.’
‘What?’
‘Yep. Rowe reckons he visited his boyfriend’s house in Ailsworth the night his car was in Wisbech. When they asked him, why not drive to Ailsworth, he said he liked to have a walk on Boxing Day.’
‘Yeah, right.’
‘Exactly, anyway, so far, he hasn’t given up who the boyfriend is. We’re struggling to get it with his devices being locked. Zander questioned Rowe’s colleagues at his work, but no one knows him very well. He’s on Facebook, but he doesn’t use it much. Cox wondered if you remember seeing anyone, or a particular type of car, or even remember a number plate from someone visiting him.’
‘Hang on. My phone’s dying. Let me plug it in.’
‘Sure.’
The battery is fine, but I need a few seconds. This news is manna from heaven. The Lord is looking out for me. How do I use this gift to my advantage? What always shanks up an investigation? It comes to me. We all hate red herrings.
‘Hi, sorry about that. It’s charging now. What did you ask?’
‘Can you remember any cars or visitors?’
‘I did see a few nice motors arriving, actually, and a couple of people on foot. I thought it was weird as the men looked well dressed. Some of them weren’t there long. I spotted a black Porsche more than once. I’m not a big car fan, but even I couldn’t take my eyes off it.’
The pause at the other end roars in my ears. Come on, Malik. You can do it.
‘Shit, Rowe might have been a rent boy?’
‘Wow, you’re right. Have they checked his bank statements, or found any cash? You can’t judge anyone at face value nowadays.’
Malik laughed down the phone. ‘This will make you laugh. Clavell reckoned you could be involved. He said it was a bit suspicious that you live next door to Stone and Rowe, and saw that Malcolm Somerville just before he drowned.’
‘I can assure you I haven’t been paying for sex with male computer programmers.’
‘Sure, of course not. Look, I better report back. Take it easy, yeah? I’ll see you at the gym.’
I breathe deeply and still my mind. A mistake has got me into the mess I’m in. I won’t make another. If I hadn’t touched Stone, I wouldn’t be under suspicion at all. And there’s me thinking Barton was the one to watch out for. I have a new enemy. There is something familiar about that Clavell, too. I’d better keep an eye on him.
61
The Soul Killer
When I woke this morning, I lay in bed for hours, processing Malik’s news. It was clear that my days in River End were numbered and my career was finished. I considered giving notice on both, but I know the rules regarding tenancies, and I’ll squeeze every last penny out of my job.
I’ll simply stop paying the rent. It’ll take them six months to evict me. I’ll leave my mobile attached to the charger and my car parked up. If anyone comes to visit, they’ll assume I’m out or asleep as they’ll hear the phone ringing.
I’ll control the timings of the meetings from now on. There are only guidelines around answering your phone for hearings. My plan is to disappear shortly. If things go bad, they won’t be able to arrest me if they can’t find me.
The Major Crimes team’s investigation will be floundering at the moment and hopefully I’ve sent them racing in the wrong direction. I wonder if some poor sod nearby has a black Porsche. If so, he or she could be in for a tough few days. But I know eventually I’m going to make an appearance in their investigation, whether it’s sooner or later. When they search Rowe’s car, they are likely to find a trace of me so I need to put myself in there before that comes back. If Barton doesn’t connect the dots, Clavell will. I don’t relish a hand on my shoulder when I’m not ready. Only the rich escape prison.
Currently, the police have insufficient evidence to prosecute me if they decide to look in my direction, unless something else turns up, but I don’t want them picking me up willy-nilly and taking me in for questions. I’ve got my first interview with Professional Standards in a week, but after that, they’ll discover I’m a ghost.
I decided to visit Barney and hopefully stay with him. I need to find out what he said. It’s safe to assume that he didn’t mention my name, or I’d already be sharing a cell with Rowe. I caught the last train tonight and brought some of my things. Wisbech railway station closed years ago, so I changed at Ely and went to King’s Lynn.
I had no choice but to get a taxi. The meter shows over twenty pounds as we pull up around the corner from the home I grew up in. That level of expense is unsustainable. I’ll need transport soon, but it must be untraceable.
I pay the driver with cash and yank down my baseball cap. There’s no one nearby, so I stride along confidently. Barney’s campervan gleams in the glow of the streetlights. Even in the dark, I can tell someone’s cleaned it. The tyres are pumped too, all of them. I’m tempted to get in and check the interior, but there’s plenty of time for that.
The house looks empty at this late hour. I can’t see a light on in any of the rooms. The main bedroom is upstairs facing the street, but the curtains aren’t closed. I have keys, front and back, so venture towards the rear. The stiff door feels as if it hasn’t opened since I last visited.
I check the bin under the sink and note there’s household rubbish but no whisky bottles. Maybe Barney has been born again. A quiet rasping echoes from farther into the house. I tiptoe towards the sound. It’s a slight rattle, coming from upstairs. The stairs creak as I ascend. I turn into Barney’s room. I suppose it was my mother’s room, too.
Moonlight streams through the window and shows Barney lying in state. He has his hands clasped on his chest, as though in prayer, and his head slightly raised by the pillows. The cobalt mottled skin appears lifeless. I’ve seen livelier looking corpses, yet his chest rises. I perch beside him.
‘Barney.’ I whisper louder, ‘Barney.’
His breathing alters, but his eyelids don’t move. I walk to the windows and close the curtains. There’s a thin eiderdown on the bottom of the bed, which I unfurl and place over his small body and tuck under his hands. Despite the pallor, his face is crease-free. I can only assume he hasn’t got long. I’m leaving the room when I hear him gasp loudly. It’s dark, so I flick on the light switch. His eyelids are half open now.
‘Is that you, David?’ A hand moves towards me.
‘Yes, Barney. It’s me.’ I sit next to him but avoid his outstretched fingers.
He smiles, which makes his cheek twitch.
‘I knew you’d come. Would have put money on it. I fixed the van. We can go for that ride now.’
I’m not sure I’ve ever cried properly before, but my eyes empty as though they’re releasing thirty years of pain. I take his hand and squeeze tight.
‘That’s what I came home for.’
‘You’re a good boy.’
‘How are you feeling?’ It’s a lame question, and it croaks out.
‘I’m dying. Either that, or I have some hangover.’
My laugh is a snivel, and I wipe my nose.
‘How long are you back for, David?’
‘Until the end, Barney. Until the end.’
62
DI Barton
Barton stared out at the sea of faces in the incident room. He hadn’t asked for silence, but all the conversations were hushed. Even though most of those present didn’t know the sum of the information that had come in, they appeared to sense it. Naseem, DCI Cox’s predecessor, had preferred morning meetings as cases came to their conclusion. That way, everyone left motivated and had a whole day to act.
It’d been a week since they’d charged Rowe with the murder of Arnold Stone. Rowe had remained silent as the magistrates had remanded him in custody and as far as they knew, he’d said nothing since. The prison security team had reported that he’d made no application to make any telephone calls.
Barton also noted that Rowe had only lasted three hours on main location before someone had asked him what he was in for. It wasn’t surprising. Each standard wing held eighty prisoners at HMP Peterborough. Your average prisoner would have looked at him with suspicion the moment they saw him. It would only take one to shout something out. The prison officers had struggled to get him out alive. He’d spent the last week on the VP wing, with the other vulnerable persons at risk of being battered for their crimes, appearance or sexuality.
The Soul Killer Page 22
