French Leave (14 page)

At Headquarters there was an air of restlessness, although the entire team was present save Tom, who was supervising the removal of a tree from his garden. Max understood the general mood. They had all been handling a possible murder enquiry; an intriguing set of circumstances. Now it had become a simple case of a runaway soldier. Nothing more to investigate. Each of them was certainly planning a lively weekend, which they hoped would start at noon. Max had no argument with that, they deserved a decent break.

Telling them he would see them on Monday morning, he asked Connie and Heather to wait for a few minutes. He smiled at their apprehensive expressions.

‘No problem. Just fill me in on Privates White and Corkhill. In your report you rated them a couple of likely lads. Anything in particular that they said to emphasize that opinion?'

Connie answered. ‘They said much the same of Smith as the rest. Disliked everything about him, but mostly his persistence in butting in where he wasn't wanted.'

‘Especially Smith's attempt to chum up with Lance Corporal Mason, who's still mourning his close friend killed in Iraq,' added Heather.

‘Mmm, by Mason's own evidence, Smith was an insensitive bastard,' Max said thoughtfully. ‘From your conversation with White and Corkhill, would you go along with a guess that Smith might have elbowed his way into a profitable sideline that pair were running exclusively?'

Connie frowned. ‘The DVD and CD trade?'

‘Yes.'

‘You think that's what happened?'

‘I don't know, but I've just been given a furtive hint by young Ryan that Smith was scared of that duo, who made it obvious they had some kind of hold over him.'

‘That wouldn't surprise me,' said Heather. ‘They were too cocky by half. You think Smith ran from
them
, sir?'

Max perched on the edge of a desk and gave a sigh. ‘Something drove Smith to leave without delay, and those two could have been responsible. Before you start your weekend break I'd like you to bring them in for questioning. Maybe the more intimidating venue will loosen their tongues.'

‘You want one of us to stay?'

‘No, Connie, just bring them in, if you please.'

Heather studied him expectantly. ‘Are you still considering something more complex than simple AWOL?'

He laughed. ‘I'm considering one of my famous wild geese. Put it down to that knock on my head.'

While Max waited for them to return, his mobile rang. ‘Hi, Tom. How's it going in the Blacks' garden?'

‘Tree's gone. I've bribed the coolie workforce to help clear the remaining mess with the promise of a boat trip complete with coffee and cakes tomorrow.' A sigh came across the connection. ‘I have a horrible suspicion Hans will be included in the treat, in which case several others will be added to the roll call. Pity we're not still investigating Smith. I could plead work and leave Nora to—'

‘Arrange a divorce,' Max finished pointedly. ‘Are you coming in this afternoon?'

‘I've been promised a tasty lunch. I could drive over afterwards. Is there something on?'

‘Not really. I've sent everyone off for the weekend. I'll leave after I've interviewed a couple of Smith's platoon members.'

‘I thought George had taken that over now.'

‘He has, but I've a hunch I might find the cause of Smith's precipitate abscondment by following up a suggestion that these two know more than they've let on.'

Tom chuckled. ‘One of your WGs?'

‘If I catch it, I'll call you in.'

‘Called to tell you George rang me half an hour ago. Our circulated description of Smith has reached the Hants police headquarters. Some bright lad there matched the description with one of someone wanted by them for a series of robberies in and around Southampton last year. They want to be informed when we find him.'

‘Ha, so Smith was nicking stuff before he joined the West Wilts. It fits, Tom.'

‘Except that we have no firm evidence he's been doing it out here. All he's been up to is making lists, if the store managers are to be believed.'

‘So how did he come by the pile you found in his locker?'

‘We'll ask him when we get him.'

Spotting Connie and Heather arriving with two very aggressive-looking men, Max said, ‘Have a good time with your clutch of kids. I'll give you the news on Monday.'

Max saw at once why his two sergeants had described them as likely lads. Both had blunt features and complexions indicating the consumption of too much junk food and not enough fresh water. White suited his name. Ash blond with pale blue-grey eyes, he was of medium height and sinewy, with tattoos on both arms.

Corkhill was black-haired with eyes so dark that Max guessed foreign blood must have been introduced among his ancestors at some time. He was short and stocky, again with tattooed arms. He made no secret of his anger at being brought in by the two women.

‘What's this about? We've done nothing. We're being victimized.'

‘Yeah, we've done nothing,' echoed White.

Max nodded his thanks to his sergeants, then turned to the men. ‘So many people think that until we manage to refresh their memories. That's what we're going to do now. You wait here while I discover what Corkhill now remembers,' he told Charles White sternly. ‘While you're waiting, you can dredge your own memory for facts buried beneath the silt.'

In an interview room, with Corkhill in a chair facing him and the door shut, Max stared in silence at the brash soldier.

‘What?' Corkhill asked when he could evidently stand the situation no longer.

‘I'm giving you time to think about what you failed to tell my sergeants when they questioned you about your relationship with John Smith.'

‘Nothing. I had no
relationship
with that little creep, sir.'

‘Ah, but you did have. You've just expressed a strong disgust of him.'

‘That's not a relationship. We were never mates.'

Max maintained his intense gaze, saying, ‘The word relationship means how one person
relates
to another. It doesn't necessarily mean friendship or liking. In your case, you felt exactly the opposite where Smith was concerned. In legal terms that means a
hostile
relationship.'

‘Legal terms?' cried Corkhill, alarmed. ‘I'm not giving no evidence. I don't know nothing about where he is, or why he scarpered.'

‘I think you do,' Max contradicted firmly. ‘What did Smith do to earn your opinion of him as a little creep?'

Len Corkhill gazed left and right as if seeking an answer to that written on the walls like a cue-board. Enlightenment then came. ‘Yeah, he was always creeping about. You'd look up and there he was. You'd never asked him to join in. He'd just tag on like he was with you.' Further enlightenment. ‘Yeah, and he'd listen to what was going off, like, then go and tell others like it was
his
idea. Caused trouble, he did.'

‘In what way?'

Wary, wondering if he had given too much away, Corkhill improvised. ‘Passed on bits of what he'd heard.'

‘Such as?'

He shrugged. ‘You know how it is. The lads shoot off their mouths over something that happened that day, or at a disco on a Saturdee. It's just talk to get it out of their systems. Don't mean half of it. Forget it next day. But Smith, he ran round passing the dirt and the lads all got uptight about it.' By now more confident that he had all the right answers, Corkhill leaned back and folded his arms. ‘Three Platoon was the best in Purbeck until that little snot joined us, and none of us is surprised he scarpered.' A sneer crossed his coarse features. ‘Got so piss-scared by that exercise, he couldn't face the thought of the real thing. Used to shoot men what done that in the old days.'

‘So you think someone shot Smith?'

‘What?' Corkhill was once more alarmed at the way the interview was going.

‘You all believe Smith was afraid of going to Afghanistan. Did one of you decide to deal with the coward like they did in the old days?'

‘I didn't say that! No way did I say that, sir,' he cried, completely rattled.

‘So what
did
you threaten Smith with?'

The near-black eyes looked everywhere but at the questioner.

‘Come on, Corkhill,' Max pressed. ‘It's common knowledge you and White had Smith over a barrel.'

The soldier kept his silence while Max waited. After several minutes passed, Max got up and walked to open the door. ‘White, you're next.'

Corkhill turned in his chair. ‘I can go?' he asked with relief.

‘Wait outside. I might need to question you again.'

‘I don't know nothing,' Corkhill protested again.

‘Which means you know something. Think back to your English lessons at school. It'll give you something to occupy your mind while you wait.'

Standing so that the pair had no opportunity for eyeball contact as they passed, Max was soon facing the pale soldier across the table.

‘I won't keep you long,' he said. ‘Corkhill has given me the background details of what hold you had over John Smith. All I need from you is how you discovered what he'd done.'

White looked bewildered. ‘Corky
told
you?'

‘Said Smith spoiled what used to be the best platoon in Purbeck company; that he set guys against each other by repeating wild talk he'd overheard and suggesting it was for real. Also reckons Smith tried to muscle in on whatever you and your mate had going down at weekends. That right?'

‘Yeah. Yeah.' White spoke softly, weighing up what Max had said.

‘As I told Corkhill, we have a witness who says you two had a hold over Smith; knew something he'd want kept quiet. Were you blackmailing him? Demanding some return for your silence?'

Apprehension flared in those pale eyes. ‘No way! Corky never told you that.'

‘No, he didn't. So what did you do with this knowledge you had?'

‘Made him shit-scared of what we
might
do. That's all,' White declared forcefully. ‘Look, sir, Smith asked for it. We – me and Corky – thought up a way to sort him for good.'

‘Go on.'

‘But Corky already told you.'

‘I'd like to hear your version.'

White was still cagey. ‘Who's this witness?'

‘What was it that Smith was afraid you'd use against him?'

Gazing round the small room and realizing there was no way of bluffing his way out of his predicament, White apparently decided the game was up. ‘Smith was always trying to get in on what any of us was doing. So, when he listens to what Corky and me planned for a Saturdee night with a couple of tar . . . girls, and wants to tag along, we says to get lost. Then he comes up on that morning with a couple of DVDs. Says they're ours, no strings. Thinks it buys him a place in our plan. When we don't play ball, he says he can get us a player, latest model, for free.'

White's face gained some colour as he related this. ‘Me and Corky went along with it, spiking him, like. Said when he'd got the player we'd think about it. He bloody turns up with it the next weekend. New, still in the packing. Wouldn't say where he'd got it.'

White then smiled and put a hand to his throat. ‘Corky, he's had it up to here with Smith trying to buy himself into our plans. So he shakes his head and says we could go in to town and lift one of them players any time we liked. He gives me the wink, then tells Smith what might work the magic would be a rifle and ammo. Says we've got a buyer and could split the dosh three ways, but we didn't know how to get hold of the stuff.'

Max's interest in this evidence suddenly doubled. This goose was wild enough to appeal to him. ‘So you'd stymied Smith?'

‘Had we, hell! The stupid bastard does the business. Don't ask me how. Comes and offers us a weapon and ammo next weekend.'

‘You took it?'

‘No way, sir. It's a serious offence, that.'

‘So Smith kept it?'

He shook his head. ‘We dunno what happened to it. We just told him to put it back where he got it from. Said we wanted nothing to do with it.' It seemed White saw, for the first time, what he and Corkhill had instigated, and that they were beginning to look culpable.

‘So you admit to conning Smith into committing a serious offence as a means of winning your friendship, having no intention of honouring the deal?' Max demanded.

‘We never thought he'd do it.' Obviously not liking the expression on Max's face, he blustered some more. ‘He was a leech, sir, clinging on where he wasn't wanted. He wouldn't get the message. We had to shake him off somehow.'

‘And, having coerced him into this criminal act, you then kept him in line with the threat of reporting what he'd done.'

Again, White tried to bluster. ‘It was a joke, a put-down, saying we could do a deal with the rifle and ammo. We never set him up to nicking one. Any normal guy would know we was having him on. Smith, he was like a dog. Wanted a pat for bringing us a bone.'

Max stood abruptly, walked to open the door, and called Corkhill back. Once the pair were seated side by side, he outlined the result of the interviews with them. ‘A rifle and ammunition were stolen from the Armoury three weeks ago. You both admit to tricking Private Smith into acquiring such items by saying you had a buyer for them. You further admit he produced these items, when you then told him you had been joking and wanted nothing to do with them. You state that you have no idea what Smith did with the items he stole, but you have been tormenting him by threatening to report him for theft. Is that correct?'