Buried in the Past (22 page)

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Authors: Bill Kitson

BOOK: Buried in the Past
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‘But then everything went pear-shaped on you, didn’t it?’ Nash continued as if Corinna hadn’t spoken. ‘First of all Ray and Frankie found out what you were planning; or part of it at least. Then Frankie disappeared. That wouldn’t have mattered, but for the fact that she took Max’s stash of diamonds with her. That must have seemed disastrous.’

Corinna’s smile had vanished; her pose had changed as well. Instead of lounging in the chair perfectly at ease, she was now sitting bolt upright, a frown replacing the smile. Nevertheless, she achieved a shrug. ‘Think what you like, you can’t prove it.’

Nash smiled. ‘I might not have to; you might end up telling me everything. Especially when we throw your more recent crimes into the pot. Let me see, what have we got? Conspiracy to murder, attempted murder, carrying a firearm, obtaining goods by false pretences; that should do for a start. Even if I can’t pin all your crimes on you, Corinna, I’m sure I can get you convicted of enough to keep you inside until you’re an old woman. Yes, I’m confident we can send you both down for a long time.’

Nash signalled to Clara. ‘That’s enough for now. Put her back in a cell and let her stew for a bit.’

Unlike Corinna, Phil Miller didn’t make eye contact with Nash. Not to begin with, at least. ‘We’ve got you in the frame for murder, Phil,’ Nash began. ‘To be accurate: murder, attempted murder, burglary and deception. And that’s just for starters. Tell me
something
. How long do you reckon it’ll be until Corinna gives you up? Not long, I bet. I mean, she’s not exactly the faithful type, is she?’

Clara was watching Miller closely. She saw that Nash had got the prisoner’s attention. More than that, he’d riled the man. She saw the glitter of rage in Miller’s eyes and smiled approvingly. This was more like it. This was the Mike Nash she knew.

‘Let’s look at the evidence. She ditched Max when he became a millstone. If she’s capable of doing it once, she’s sure to do it again, mark my words. Somebody told me she was devoted to Max. That made me laugh because I knew she’d hopped into your bed as soon as he was out of the way. Or was that before he was killed? Were you already at it? Was that why Max had to be got rid of? Or was
it so you could get your hands on his fortune, get control of those precious diamonds and bed the lovely widow into the bargain?

‘OK, so you didn’t achieve all the objectives you’d planned for, but you still didn’t do too badly, did you? Admittedly you missed out on the diamonds, but you still ended up ruling Max’s empire, and renting the sexy widow all these years. I hope it was worth the trouble and effort. I suppose at least you’ll have the memories. I mean, whilst you’re serving a life sentence in a cell with a roommate suffering from BO and halitosis and only you in mind as a playmate. Shut your eyes and you’ll be able to forget that Corinna’s on the outside, having it off with her latest. Because deep down, you know that’s how she is, how it’ll end up, don’t you? Once a slut always a slut, don’t you think? That’s just another worry to add to your list, isn’t it? And we’re the least of them, aren’t we? I think we both know those diamonds are beyond your control forever. And from what I hear, that means some really evil men will be wanting a word with you.’

Miller hadn’t spoken throughout Nash’s tirade. He still didn’t speak, but if looks could kill, Nash would have withered on the spot. Much to Mironova’s astonishment, instead of pressing home his advantage Nash signalled the end of the interview. As the uniformed officer took the prisoner back to the cells, Clara still wasn’t sure what the last three-quarters of an hour had achieved, if anything. Neither prisoner had volunteered any information, nor did they seem likely to. So why was Nash looking so cheerful? Then it dawned on her. Nash was toying with them. He hadn’t revealed one single fact, hadn’t shared any of what they knew. ‘You’re making them suffer,’ she accused him.

Nash smiled. ‘A little bit, maybe. But when you think how much misery and suffering they’ve inflicted, I reckon they’ve earned it.’

Pearce was waiting for them, talking to Jack Binns; their
conversation
being listened to with interest by the Netherdale civilian receptionist. ‘SOCO have finished at the cottage. They didn’t find anything more. But the prints will prove they were living there, as well as the bloody great Merc parked round the back.’

‘Good, how about you, Jack? Everything ready?’ Nash gestured towards the first floor.

Binns nodded. ‘The recording equipment’s all set up. I tested it, too, just to be on the safe side. Your visitors arrived earlier. Tom and I got them settled and Tom’s sitting with them.’

Nash smiled. ‘Thanks, Jack. Wait here until I ring down, will you? Then bring the prisoners upstairs. I’ll want you in on the interviews.’

Binns looked surprised. ‘You’re doing them both together? That’s a bit unusual, isn’t it? Are you sure you don’t want them separated?’

Nash shook his head. ‘That won’t be necessary.’ He turned to Pearce. ‘Viv, will you wait here until my other visitor arrives and bring her up?’

Nash walked slowly, mentally rehearsing what he would say to the prisoners, what he wanted out of them and how he was going to set about getting it. The next hour or so would be critical to their case. Much of their evidence was circumstantial at this stage, but he thought that would be enough.

Clara, who had gone ahead to check the room, saw the
expression
on Nash’s face as he entered. ‘You’re looking particularly devious,’ she told him. ‘I take it that means that your plans are all
starting to come together? The puppet master has arranged the show, and now he’s waiting for the marionettes to dance when he pulls their strings, is that it?’

‘How very eloquently put, Clara. Yes, I suppose it does seem a bit that way, but given what we know about the suspects, I think we need to nail them.’

‘I guess you’re right. By the way, did Viv tell you we got a reply back from California?’

‘No, perhaps he thought you’d already told me.’

‘Well the good news is that the answer is “yes”.’

‘I thought it would be. That makes today’s work even easier.’

He looked round. Binns had not only set up the tape machine and camcorder, but Clara had set out a water jug and glasses, more as if they were expecting visitors than arrested prisoners. Nash smiled approvingly. The scene had been set for the benefit of the camera so there could be no later allegation of mistreatment.

‘Have we missed anything?’ Clara asked.

‘Not a thing. I like the water, that’s a good touch. They can’t complain about water. Whatever you do, though, don’t offer to make them any of your coffee, Clara. We don’t want complaints about police brutality.’

Two minutes later, Pearce entered. ‘She’s here,’ he told Nash. ‘Where do you want me to put her?’

‘We’ll introduce her to the others and they can all wait in the next room.’

Nash signalled Clara to come with him as they followed Pearce. It was almost fifteen minutes later when they returned to the
makeshift
interview room via a connecting door, leaving Pearce along with Tom Pratt to care for Nash’s guests. Both Nash and Mironova looked subdued after the meeting they had witnessed.

‘Ring Jack and ask him to bring them up from the cells, please, Clara. Let’s get this over and done with,’ Nash said as he left the adjoining door slightly ajar.

As soon as the prisoners were led into the room, Clara switched on the camcorder. When they were seated at the table, Nash asked her to perform the formalities for the tape.

He turned to the woman. ‘You were arrested when you
attempted to remove the contents of Frankie Da Silva’s safety deposit box from the bank, using the receipt you obtained from her solicitor, who gave it to you on the strength of the letter of authority stolen from Mrs Margaret Fawcett’s house.’

His gaze switched to Corinna’s partner. ‘Unfortunately for you, we’ve managed to identify remains found near Bishops Cross village as those of Frankie Da Silva. I must tell you that in addition to her death, we are also investigating the murder of Graham Nattrass. Given the savagery of the blows that killed him, and the strength required to subdue him, even after he’d been sedated, we reckon Corinna couldn’t have done it. Which leads us directly to you. Apart from Nattrass’s murder, we are also investigating two other attacks. Plus, the murders of two men found in a burnt-out car, one of whom we believe to have been an acquaintance of yours by the name of Trevor Thornton. The Met have also reopened the inquiry into the earlier murder of Tony Callaghan, known as Dirty Harry. Other charges relating to further matters under investigation might also be forthcoming.’

Miller had remained impassive until that moment, but at the mention of Callaghan’s name he looked up. Shock drained a little of the colour from his suntanned complexion. ‘I’m not saying anything,’ he muttered in a low tone. ‘You can’t prove anything. You’ve no evidence.’

‘Actually, we have. We’ve searched your cottage.’

‘Don’t say a word, Phil.’ Corinna spoke for the first time.

‘Don’t worry, I’ve no intention of saying anything. This lot can’t prove a thing, despite all their bluster.’

Nash walked across to the open door and spoke. ‘Have you heard enough? Would you care to join our little party?’ he asked.

Everyone turned to look as Tom Pratt emerged from the adjacent room, pushing a wheelchair. Seated in the chair was a frail-looking man. Alongside it was Sister Evangeline. As he closed the door Nash announced for the tape. ‘Civilian Support Officer Pratt has just entered the room, accompanied by Mrs Evangeline Perry – and Mr Raymond Perry.’

Both Evangeline and her son looked as if they had been crying. Hardly surprising in the circumstances, Clara thought, and
wondered how many more tears would be shed before the day was out.

Shock held the prisoners speechless for a moment, then Miller burst out, ‘It can’t be! You’re dead!’

‘Really? Why do you think that? Mr Perry needed specialist treatment. We also wanted to make sure he was clear of danger so we had him moved to the Freeman Hospital in Newcastle. There, he could be given the treatment to help him recover and be close to his mother; close enough for her to visit him as he was recuperating.’

Nash turned to the man in the wheelchair. ‘Do you recognize anyone in this room, Ray?’

‘I recognize Corinna’ – Ray nodded in her direction – ‘although I haven’t seen her for a long time. I don’t recognize him,’ he pointed to Miller. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen him before in my life. The odd thing is, though, when I was waiting next door I thought his voice sounded vaguely familiar.’

‘Funny, I thought that as well,’ Ray’s mother chipped in.

Both prisoners remained silent, their eyes averted from Ray Perry and his mother. Nash looked at Clara and nodded towards the door. She walked across and took hold of the handle.

‘I have someone else here I’d like you to meet,’ Nash told them. As he spoke, Clara opened the connecting door and gestured to Pearce.

‘For those of you who haven’t had the pleasure of meeting her, allow me to introduce Frankie Da Silva—’

Corinna’s scream cut across Nash’s voice before he finished his sentence. Strangely, it was she who was more shocked than Phil by the apparent entrance of the woman they thought was dead.

‘As I was saying, this is Frankie Da Silva’s daughter, Christina.’

Corinna was white and shaking, her hand clasped to her mouth, her eyes fixed on Tina’s face. She didn’t seem to have taken in what Nash had said.

Although Nash had warned Ray and his mother what was going to happen, when he had introduced Tina to her father and
grandmother
a little earlier, Clara could see that they, too, were moved by the similarity to Frankie.

The sudden appearance of Raymond Perry, followed by the girl
who so uncannily resembled Frankie seemed to knock the last semblance of fight from Phil. ‘All right,’ he said, his tone heavy with the weariness of defeat. ‘I’ll tell you.’

‘Yes, but will you tell us everything?’ Mironova interrupted. ‘Or will we have to prompt you?’

Corinna saw the glance that passed between Nash and his deputy and her heart sank. That glance told her the game was up. They didn’t need to be told. They already knew it all.

‘There was one unanswered question that had us puzzled,’ Nash continued. ‘Who would benefit from the death of Max Perry? Who stood to gain – apart from Corinna, that is? Certainly not the people whose diamonds had been stolen – they were hard-headed business men. Killing Max would have achieved nothing; it wouldn’t have got their diamonds back. Nor did Callaghan stand to gain. He was having more trouble with the triads than Max.’

‘Excuse me,’ Clara said. ‘Do you want to take their statements before or after we charge them?’

‘Good question. We’ve only charged them with the attempted robbery of the diamonds from the bank this morning. Will you read out the other possible charges please, Clara? It will help to refresh the memory.’

Clara took a sheet of paper from a file and began to read. ‘There’s the murder of Graham Nattrass, the attempted murder of Raymond Perry, the assault on Tina Silver, the murders of Frankie Da Silva, Trevor Thornton, one as yet unidentified male and Tony Callaghan.’ Clara paused and looked at Nash.

‘Thank you, Clara, I think that should do for starters.’

Ray Perry interrupted. ‘But what about Max’s murder? Why haven’t you mentioned that? Don’t you think they should be charged with that? Wasn’t Max their first victim?’

Corinna’s heart sank as she saw Nash look at his deputy once more and realized the full extent of their knowledge. As if in a dream, she heard him say, ‘I think it’s very touching of you to be concerned that the killers of Max are brought to justice,’ Nash told him. As he was speaking, he turned to look at Phil Miller. ‘However, I believe that would be very difficult to prove. Impossible, I reckon.’ His tone was almost conversational. ‘It would have its comical side
though, don’t you agree? Being charged with your own murder, Max?’

There was stunned silence for a long moment. ‘What did you say?’ Evangeline asked.

‘I was suggesting to Max that it would be funny if he was charged with having murdered himself, that’s all.’

‘Max? You think this is Max? But he’s been dead over twenty-five years,’ Evangeline persisted.

‘Correction, everyone believed him to have been dead over twenty-five years,’ Nash told her.

‘That isn’t Max,’ Raymond chimed in. ‘Max was killed. You know he was. Besides, that man doesn’t look at all like Max.’

‘No, he doesn’t now, but he still sounds like Max.’ He turned to Evangeline. ‘Remember what you said about his voice sounding familiar? How could it, when you’ve never met Phil Miller? Unless of course, Phil Miller is actually Max Perry, your brother-in-law. Then you would think the voice familiar.’

‘But what about his appearance?’ Ray objected.

Nash was still looking at Sister Evangeline. ‘Remember when you told me where Corinna worked as a nurse?’

‘Yes; it was in Coventry.’

‘We checked it out. You were right when you said the name was somehow connected to Captain Cook. It was the Endeavour Clinic that burned down, killing three people. One of them was a plastic surgeon who operated there. We managed to trace the anaesthetist who assisted. He now lives in California. He remembered a patient by the name of Phil Miller. He confirmed the identity via a photo we emailed him of Max Perry. So, Clara, I suggest you charge our friend here under his real name. And if he still insists he isn’t Max Perry, a simple DNA test will confirm it. We’ve his nephew’s DNA already on file.’ Nash gestured to Ray.

Nash signalled to Clara to stop the tape. He looked at Max and Corinna. Both of them appeared to be stunned, defeated, deflated almost.

‘Sergeant Binns, take them back down to the cells. Get them a solicitor if they want one. They might need legal aid,’ he added wickedly, ‘as they’re up to their ears in debt.’

 

When the visitors had been supplied with refreshments, Nash turned to Ray. ‘Tell me about Callaghan, what happened when he was killed?’

‘I was framed. I got a call from him.’ Ray explained how he’d been summoned to the car showroom on some pretext of a meeting and had only just arrived when the police showed up.

‘Who set the meeting up?’ Nash asked.

‘Callaghan rang me.’

‘Are you sure it was him?’ Nash asked.

‘Of course I’m sure. Who else could it have been?’

‘Someone good at impersonations, perhaps? Someone with theatrical experience?’

‘You mean…?’

‘There seems to have been more than one conversation attributed to a person that couldn’t be verified.’ Nash said. ‘But tell me, why did you keep quiet all the time you were inside?’

‘I got a message,’ Ray explained. ‘It was when I was on remand. Another convict passed it.’ He shrugged. ‘I thought it was genuine, because that’s the way things happened inside. Still do’ – he smiled – ‘despite your lot trying to put a stop to it. The message was from Frankie, or so they reckoned. Now, I realize it was simply designed to shut me up. It said that she’d done what we planned, but in order to make sure she was safe, I had to keep quiet. I couldn’t risk anything happening to Frankie, what with the baby and all,’ he said with a deal of sadness in his voice, ‘so I complied. Much later, as the years passed with no contact whatsoever, I began to have my doubts, but what could I do? I had no one to contact, no money to launch an appeal, and as far as I could tell, no grounds for one.’

‘You knew about the baby?’ Nash asked.

Perry nodded. ‘We even discussed names – devised a password from it, either boy or girl, in case of emergency.’

‘What about your mother?’ Clara asked. ‘Didn’t you think of trying to contact her?’

‘I did, once I started to wonder if that message was true, but then I heard that she’d died. You may think I’m simple for believing these rumours, but I’d no means of checking them out. All the news
I got was that a homeless alcoholic had been fished out of the river near Rotherhithe. What convinced me was I knew my mother used to go there a bit when she was … ill.’

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