Butterfly Grave (Murder Notebooks) (25 page)

‘James Munroe.’

Rose sat down and pulled the laptop towards her. She started a new Google search. She put
Beaufort Holdings
in and then
James Munroe
. A magazine article came up. It was from a periodical called
Security Solutions
. She opened it up. It was dated six months before.

Ex-Policemen Make the Best Security Experts.

Ex-Chief Inspector James Munroe gave a talk at the Security Symposium held at Wembley Conference Centre. Munroe celebrated the huge numbers of security consultants who had a background in policing and he made the point that no one could give better advice than those individuals who had dealt with the criminal classes.

The article went on to describe types of security for gated estates but Rose’s eyes were caught by a photo at the bottom of the page. This time it was big enough to tell who the people were.

‘Look,’ she said, angling the laptop so that Joshua could see the screen.

In the photo James Munroe was standing next to the woman with the white-blonde hair. The caption underneath read,
James Munroe and his wife, Margaret Spicer, Director of Beaufort Holdings.

‘They’re
married
!’ Rose said with wonder. ‘James Munroe married the woman who discovered the body of Judy Greaves. Wait.’

Rose put two more names into the search engine:
James Munroe Simon Lister.
Instantly a long list of items appeared with the names in bold. She picked the first item, dated October 2004.

London Police Chief heads Investigation

Chief Inspector James Munroe from the Metropolitan Police Force has been appointed to oversee the investigation into the handling of enquiries regarding the murder of Simon Lister in August 2004. There have been criticisms of the local police force’s ability to solve this crime. The local force have been accused of not leading the investigation in a vigorous manner . . .

Joshua opened up a couple of the other references and the articles were similar. He was reading them through and making sounds under his breath, words that Rose couldn’t understand. Eventually he stopped reading the screen and slumped back.

‘But Skeggsie and I researched James Munroe after Stiffkey, after he told us the lies about Dad and Kathy. We didn’t find anything suspicious.’

‘Because we didn’t know about the Butterfly Murder. We didn’t know any of these names until a few days ago. James Munroe is the link in all this . . . Whatever it is. Think about what happened weeks ago. We stumbled on something in Stiffkey and James Munroe and his associates hid it and then told us a pack of lies about Mum and Brendan being dead. James Munroe was there in the flat with Skeggsie when we arrived back from Norfolk.’

‘He must have known about the websites we’d set up,’ Joshua said thoughtfully. ‘Anyone could find those.’

‘So he knew that we were searching for them. That’s why he told us the story of them being drowned in the car. He wanted to stop us searching.’

‘And we did. Skeggsie said for us to keep off the web. Only
talk
about it to each other.’

‘Except that he went on a search for the registration number of the SUV.’

‘And he got killed for that?’

Rose shrugged. Saying it out loud like that it seemed ridiculous. Who would do such an awful thing? The woman with white-blonde hair?

‘They must be hiding something really big. Something so important it’s worth an innocent person’s life.’

‘We need to talk to Margaret Spicer.’

‘She was at the Royal Hotel yesterday. I don’t know if she’s still there.’

‘We’ll find out,’ Joshua said.

They stood up together. Joshua put on the leather bomber jacket. Rose looked around at the table. All these papers had unlocked something for them. She followed Joshua out. The tiredness she had felt had gone. She felt alert. As if something important was going to happen.

TWENTY-SEVEN

The silver SUV was in the car park of the Royal Hotel.

Joshua parked the Mini on the Promenade. The cold weather meant that the parking bays were mostly empty. It was getting dark, the sea was moving lazily back and forth, the sky heavy. The sound of seagulls squawking made Rose look round. Someone had thrown the remains of a bag of chips on to the beach and the birds were in a scrum trying to pluck up the food.

‘Where do you think Dad and Kathy stand in all this?’ Joshua said.

That was the question, the heart of everything. The hunt for their parents had opened doors to things that they had never wanted to see, experiences they had never wanted to have.

‘You think Munroe knows where they are?’

Rose nodded.

‘How are we going to handle this?’ Joshua said.

‘I don’t know.’

‘If we could get Margaret Spicer out of her room maybe we could go and search it.’

‘What are we looking for?’ Rose said.

‘I don’t know. Paperwork? Computer? Anything that might link her and James Munroe to the notebooks?’

‘How do we get her out?’

‘She was following us, right? So what if I ring her and tell her to come and meet me somewhere that she has to drive to? Say that if she doesn’t come I’m going to go to the police. She comes out of the hotel, drives off and if Michelle’s on reception I get the key to her room.’

‘That’s a lot of “ifs”.’

‘Michelle said she was working nights.’

‘What if she won’t give you the key?’

‘I think she will.’

Joshua made a search on his phone for the number of the hotel. Then he rang it. Rose was tense.

‘Good afternoon. Can you put me through to Margaret Spicer’s room?’

‘Was it Michelle?’ Rose whispered.

He shook his head.

He began to speak quietly and firmly to someone on the other end of the line who Rose assumed was Margaret Spicer.

‘My name is Joshua Johnson and I believe that you followed me and my friends from London last week.’

There was quiet as Joshua listened.

‘My friends saw your car near my house and we also know that you were close to the scene when our friend was killed. I think we need to talk about this now otherwise I will have to go to the police.’

Joshua was listening intently.

‘I think your husband, James Munroe, asked you to follow us. I’m wondering whether he also told you to kill my friend, Darren Skeggs, as well.’

Rose held her breath. Joshua’s voice was firm.

‘Meet me in fifteen minutes’ time at the Beacon Shopping Centre in North Shields. You’ll know it because of course you are from round here. At least you were when Judy Greaves died.’

A few moments’ silence ensued then Joshua ended the call.

‘Now we wait,’ he said.

‘How did she react?’

‘She didn’t really. She was cool, detached, as if she’d expected me to ring.’

They sat watching the front of the hotel. After a few moments Margaret Spicer came out. For once she didn’t have her dog with her. She walked across to her car, pointing the keys at it. The sidelights flashed as it unlocked itself. When she drove off Joshua got out of the car and Rose followed. They walked across the road to the hotel.

Michelle was standing behind the reception desk talking to another member of staff. Her long hair was tied back and she was wearing subtle make-up and tiny gold earrings.

‘Hi!’ she said brightly, her eyes settling coyly on Joshua’s face. ‘What can I do for you?’

Joshua looked relieved to see her. He leant on the desk.

‘You all right, Michelle? You look nice.’

‘Thank you,’ she said, looking surprised.

‘Would you do something for me . . . For us? I wouldn’t ask but it’s really important.’

‘What?’

Joshua leant across the desk.

‘Can you give us the key to Margaret Spicer’s room?’

‘Why?’

‘It’s hard to explain. We only need it for ten minutes.’

She turned to Rose. ‘This is the woman you asked me about the other day?’

‘Yes.’

‘Is it to do with Rory or Darren Skeggs?’

Michelle turned round to a row of keys that were hanging up behind her.

‘I could lose my job for this.’

‘No one will know. When we’ve opened the door Rose will bring the key back. Then if Margaret Spicer returns you can ring the room. I’ll answer and if you don’t speak I’ll know she’s coming back. ‘

Michelle looked like she was in turmoil.

‘This is important, Michelle,’ Rose said. ‘Please, we wouldn’t put you in this position otherwise.’

Michelle turned and picked the key off the wall. She sighed and handed it to Joshua in a theatrical way.

‘I owe you one,’ he said.

The room was on the second floor. They walked up the stairs and headed along the corridor until they got to Number 213.

Rose was nervous. She looked up and down the hallway to make sure no one else was coming. Then Joshua put the key in the door and turned it. The door opened silently and Rose felt jittery.

‘You won’t go in until I come back,’ she said.

Joshua shook his head.

Rose took the key and dashed back down the corridor. The lift was still there and she stepped into it. She returned the key to Michelle then went back up. Joshua was still standing by the door.

‘Ready?’ he said.

She nodded. This was something that had to be done.

‘Don’t turn the light on,’ she said. ‘If she comes back early she might know someone is in here.’

Joshua walked ahead. The curtains were open and the streetlights shone into the room. It was just possible to see around.

‘I’ll pull the curtains
then
we can turn on the lights.’

Rose walked past Joshua and headed for the windows. In between them was a mirror and as she approached it she saw her own shape getting closer. Behind her was Joshua. She looked towards the curtains but her eyes flicked back to the mirror because she thought she noticed some movement. Behind her she heard Joshua make an
Ah!
sound. She spun round and watched him fall to the floor.

‘Josh!’ she said.

The light went on.

Joshua was face down on the carpet. Behind him, holding a rubber cosh, was James Munroe. He looked flustered. She got down on the floor beside Joshua.

‘Are you all right?’

‘He’ll regain consciousness in a minute,’ Munroe said.

She pulled out her mobile and began to push at the buttons but Munroe snatched it from her and tossed it across the room.

‘Don’t try and ring anyone, Rose, or I’ll have to restrain you.’

Joshua began to moan. One hand went up to his head. He rolled round so that he was in a foetal position. James Munroe picked up a pair of cuffs from the bed. He squatted down and took Joshua’s other hand and put the cuff on. Then he attached the second cuff to the leg of the bed.

‘Shush,’ Rose said, lowering her face to Joshua’s ear. ‘You’ve been hit on the head but you’re all right.’

‘Help him to sit up. Lean him against the bed.’ Munroe said, his voice sharp, brooking no disagreement.

‘You can’t stop me walking out of here. Going to the police.’

‘I can’t stop you. But I thought that you and Joshua wanted to hear the truth. I thought that was what all this childish detective work was about.’

Joshua was half sitting up, pulling at the hand with the cuff on.

‘If you pull it the metal will break your skin.’

Rose looked around hopelessly. James Munroe pulled out a chair and sat on it. Behind him was a table and Rose could see a brown suitcase on it. It was exactly like the one that Skeggsie had, where he had put all the stuff that was linked to the notebooks. Munroe saw her looking at it but he didn’t comment. On the carpet, by his feet, was a laptop.

‘You realise that this meddling of yours only makes your parents’ lives more dangerous than they already are?’

At last Munroe was admitting her mother and Brendan were alive. It felt like an important moment.

‘Did you kill Darren Skeggs?’ Joshua said, struggling to sit up, his cuffed hand at an impossible angle.

‘Don’t be ridiculous. We do not kill innocent people. What happened to Darren Skeggs was an accident. It was never meant to happen. We sent someone to warn him off, that was all. To tell him to stop his meddling – these searches and websites and hacking programmes. We wanted him to know that we were following his every move and we simply wanted him to stop.’

‘So how come he’s dead?’

James Munroe looked uncomfortable. He crossed one leg over the other then uncrossed it.

‘We asked someone to speak to him, threaten him, if necessary. Not someone in our organisation, you understand. An old contact from the days when Margaret and I worked in the area. This person did what he was told. He spoke to your friend, perhaps roughed him up a little. But your friend put up a fight.’