SECRET CRIMES a gripping crime thriller full of suspense (4 page)

‘And it was definitely him who made the original booking?’

‘Yes. It was done on his credit card.’

‘Can I see the details, please?’

Marsh stood to one side and the two women squeezed in behind the desk. Sophie looked at the booking sheet and sign-in book. All completed under the name of Shapiro.

‘Did the other man say anything at all?’

‘Not that I remember. He stayed in the background.’

‘Did they come by car?’

‘No. And that’s rather unusual. He said that they came by bus from Poole.’

Marsh looked puzzled.

‘Are you sure of the time they arrived?’ he asked.

‘I’m certain. I always note the time and I remember this one distinctly, because the show I was watching on TV hadn’t quite finished. I missed the final ten minutes.’

‘You couldn’t have mixed them up with any other guests arriving?’

‘No. They were the last. Everyone else was already booked in and had gone out to see the first performances. They’re all here for the festival, you see.’

‘How long would you say it takes to walk up here from the bus terminus? Ten minutes?’

‘That’s what we put on the website, but I doubt it would take two fit men anywhere near that long. And the email I send out to confirm bookings has directions.’

‘It would be straightforward, wouldn’t it?’ Marsh continued. ‘Out of the bus terminus, left along Rempstone Road for a few hundred yards and you’re just about here.’

‘That’s right. Those are the directions we provide.’

‘Could you smell any drink on their breath?’

‘Not that I could tell. And he said they were in a hurry to get out for a drink and some food.’

Sophie interrupted. ‘Did either of them return at any time last night?’

‘No. We usually lock the front door about eight in the evening, but last night I left it until well after eleven because I knew most of our guests would be coming in late. Even so, I was up until just after midnight. I saw everyone else coming in.’

‘What about later? They could still have got in with their key, surely?’

‘Of course, but they didn’t. We have a tracker on the front door that logs each time it’s opened once I set the security alarm on the office. It wasn’t activated at all, so no one came in after I went to bed.’

* * *

Sophie and Marsh returned to the car.

‘The bus times don’t work, ma’am. Not unless there was a severe delay on the route down. One arrives at six forty. If they got that they should have got here long before they did. They could have called in somewhere on the walk over here, but it’s unlikely. If they followed the simplest route they wouldn’t have passed any pubs or cafés. The next bus gets in at seven thirty, and then they wouldn’t have got here in time. The only other possible explanation is that the buses were running late. I’ll check when we’re back at the station.’

‘So, another oddity. And where did Shapiro go when he left the hotel at midnight? According to Wilton and Corrigan he left just before them, and they assumed he was coming back here. But he never made it. Why not? From what our couple back at the hotel said, both men were on the lookout for available women. Maybe the double bed was for that.’

‘Shows a lot of confidence, doesn’t it? And what does the second one do when the lucky man returns with someone? Stay out until a prearranged time?’ said Marsh.

‘Maybe they were hoping for a foursome.’

‘I’d imagine that Mrs Fantini would have had something to say about that, ma’am. I can’t imagine a whole lot getting past her.’

‘Let’s get back to the hotel. I want to check the times and dates of that booking.’

* * *

Jimmy Melsom was taking statements from the staff at the Ballard View Hotel.

‘Nearly finished,’ he reported. ‘Nothing unusual so far.’

Sophie and Marsh visited the manageress in her office and asked to see the booking details for the room.

It had been booked three weeks earlier by telephone, with Sarah Sheldon’s name on the reservation. Allen stared at the screen, then stood back, puzzled.

‘Barry, this booking was made on the same day as the one at the Hawthorns. And there’s less than a fifteen minute gap in the times between them. This one’s at noon, the other one was made at ten past. How likely is that to be a random coincidence?’

Chapter 3: Friction

Saturday lunchtime

‘So this might be the last time we’ll be using this place?’ Sophie asked. She stretched out her slim legs under the table and looked up at the high ceiling. She and Melsom were seated in the incident room at Swanage’s Victorian police station. ‘It’s a shame. I’ve grown used to it during the past year. It’s always had a pleasant feel about it. The whole station, I mean, not just this room. What happens now it’s about to close?’

‘The uniformed lot are being allocated some unused rooms at the back of the town hall, along with a few car-parking slots. We don’t know what will happen to us. Probably a move to Wareham. There’s quite a bit of bitterness about it all.’ Barry Marsh was preparing an incident board. ‘Maybe this building will be converted into flats. Who knows?’

‘It’s not just due to the cuts, Barry. Crime rates are falling and have been doing so for some time now. It’s not been covered in the press because that kind of news doesn’t sell newspapers, but it’s a fact. Petty and opportunistic crime may be a bit steadier, but society is becoming more civilised. What we’re finding is that serious crime is being concentrated more and more into certain pockets of society. And it’s not just in Britain. It’s been happening across the whole of the developed world.’

‘So we’ll all find ourselves redundant sooner or later?’ Melsom sounded downhearted.

‘No. Crime rates may be dropping, but the population is rising. So the numbers will probably remain steady. There’ll always be a job for you, Jimmy, don’t worry. Anyway, let’s get on with a quick review before I decide on priorities for this afternoon. You first, Barry.’

Marsh sat down and took a sip of tea before speaking.

‘First odd fact. Despite what Mrs Corrigan said, Sarah Sheldon did ask for a family room. One of the receptionists remembers the phone conversation. Second oddity. The bookings were both made within a few minutes of each other. There was an enquiry about the possibility of a neighbouring room only a short while after Sarah had made her booking. Whoever it was claimed to be her brother.’

‘Did they ask for those specific rooms?’ Melsom asked.

‘Not Sarah, but she did ask for that
type
of room. The receptionist remembers suggesting that the second caller try the Hawthorns. She always tries to put business their way if the hotel is fully booked or too expensive for the caller, because the Fantinis are her parents. And Shapiro’s booking at the Hawthorns matches the time and date perfectly. Those two reservations were linked.’

‘So the killing might not be random after all? They probably knew each other,’ Melsom said.

‘It looks as though there was some kind of link, but we can’t make the assumption that the murder was pre-planned, Jimmy,’ said Sophie. She nodded for Marsh to continue.

‘Third odd fact. Shapiro lied to Mrs Fantini. They didn’t come by bus. The times don’t check out. The buses were running to time and I’ve had people interviewing the bus drivers on both routes into town. No one matching their description came in by bus yesterday afternoon or evening. What we do have, though, is a vague match with two men who were seen walking out of the town’s main car park in Victoria Avenue a few minutes earlier. It was sheer good fortune, since it was dark by then. The times match nicely with their arrival at the Hawthorns.’

‘Reliable witness?’ Sophie asked.

‘I think so. She’s a local resident and passed them on the pavement.’

‘Why would they lie about something like that?’ Melsom mused.

Marsh shrugged. ‘It is odd. But it suggests they didn’t expect all this to happen, don’t you think, ma’am?’

‘You’re right. Whatever they were up to, they expected it to be trouble-free. But Jimmy’s question remains. Why did they lie about their means of transport? My guess is that they didn’t want their car identified. Like most places, the Fantinis ask for car registrations. I saw the space for it on the check-in card. So Shapiro opted to park across the road and lie about it. And the car’s no longer there.’

‘Fourth odd fact. It follows on from the close timing of the booking sequence. It looks as though Sheldon might have misled Rosemary Corrigan into thinking that the two men were strangers to her, whereas she may well have known one or both of them somehow. But if they did already know each other, why couldn’t she have just said so? Why pretend that the meeting was accidental?’

‘Because it might have led to too many questions from Rosemary,’ said Sophie. ‘Where did you meet? How did you meet? How many times? Where did you go together? Easier to pretend that you’ve never met before.’

She turned to Melsom. ‘Now it’s your turn to tell us what you found out when you interviewed the other guests at the hotel.’

‘Not much. I found another group that were in the hotel bar late last night and their accounts match what Mrs Corrigan and Mr Wilton told us. One of them noticed that Shapiro seemed in a bit of a mood. They confirmed that Mrs Sheldon and the taller man stayed for a few minutes after the other three left the bar, then walked towards the stairs together. That also checks out with what the porter remembers. He thinks Shapiro left at about twelve-twenty, followed by Wilton and Rosemary a minute or two later.’

‘But no one noticed Shapiro, or anyone else, coming back in later? Or anyone else leaving? Sarah got out of the building somehow, or her body was carried out, probably through the fire door. Could you check whether it’s alarmed in any way?’

‘There’s a back entrance from the garden to the car park, ma’am. You can get into the garden via a footpath coming in from the road down at the back. And there’s a side door near the restaurant that leads out to the garden. It’s meant to be locked at eleven, but the porter admits that it’s sometimes a lot later than that. Even then some guests open it to go out for a smoke and don’t bother locking it when they come in again.’

‘So we have a possible way that Shapiro got back into the building. Good. We’ll get that door fingerprinted as well as the fire door next to the room.’

‘But why would he have come back, ma’am?’ Melsom asked.

‘It could have been prearranged. But all the witness accounts tend to indicate that the two men weren’t behaving as if they were particularly close. There may be a simpler explanation. Maybe it was Derek who had the key to the Hawthorns. It’s possible that Shapiro left in a huff, got to the front door and found he couldn’t get in. Maybe he went back to get the key from Derek.’

‘Why not ring the bell and get Mrs Fantini to let him in?’

‘Maybe he tried and got no response. She told us she went to bed just after midnight. We’ll have to ask her whether she’d have heard the doorbell once she was in bed. Can you do that, Barry? And if it was Shapiro, how did he know about the hotel’s rear door leading in from the garden? He wasn’t staying there, and, according to Rosemary, he didn’t leave the bar area until about the same time as they did. Do you think he could have been here before?’

‘Ma’am,’ said Marsh, ‘do you remember that Rosemary Corrigan told us Mrs Sheldon had stayed out all night when they went to other music festivals? What if she was meeting Derek then? What if this isn’t the first time the two of them have met up at one of these festivals, but it’s the first time things have gone wrong with whatever they’ve been up to?’

‘Oh, that’s clever, Barry. Just the way I want you thinking. Yes. We’ll need to track back through the hotel bookings at previous festivals . . . So what could have gone wrong last night?’ Sophie glanced at her watch. ‘It’s time we joined the crew out on the pub hunt. Barry, you go on ahead to any venue that’s got a gig on. See that every single person is being questioned thoroughly about our foursome. Other people must have seen them, surely? I want corroboration. Jimmy, you stay and look through booking records to see if any of the names have cropped up before. I’ll have another word with Rosemary and check a few things with Mrs Fantini. Then we’ll both join Barry in the town. We’ll also need to check the cars in all the car parks. Is there a car unaccounted for that might belong to one of the two men, or has it disappeared along with its owner?’

‘There was one more thing, ma’am,’ Melsom added. ‘There are still a couple of residents who haven’t been traced yet. The staff think that they’ll trail back in during the day sometime. They said there are always a few who find somewhere else to spend the night. Parties and things.’

‘Keep on it, Jimmy. I want them all accounted for.’

* * *

Each of the pub gigs lasted for about two hours, but the festival organisers had sequenced them so that visitors had a choice of at least two events at any one time throughout the day. Sophie and Melsom joined the throng in one of the town centre bars, looking for Marsh. The atmosphere was subdued. News of the suspicious death had swept through the small resort, and visitors to the festival were understandably worried. Sophie recognised several police officers, each talking to people in the crowd, using the descriptions that Corrigan and Wilton had supplied, and occasionally showing photos of the pair. She pushed some money into Melsom’s hand.

‘Get me an orange juice, Jimmy. And something for yourself and Barry. But nothing alcoholic, okay?’

She reached a small group of people standing around Marsh.

‘Ma’am, these people were sitting at the table next to our five late yesterday evening. They’ve agreed to give statements. There’s also someone else you should meet. He’s waiting in the office. If Jimmy can stay here, I’ll take you through.’

They went through a narrow door leading to a corridor.

‘It’s someone who claims he saw our two guys a bit earlier in the evening than Ed Wilton did. He’s a roadie with one of the bands and was moving equipment.’

The two detectives entered a tiny office where a heavyset man, dressed in faded denim, was standing beside a uniformed officer.

Sophie held out her hand. ‘I’m DCI Sophie Allen. You have some information for us?’

‘Yeah. I’m sure it was them. They were standing just outside the doorway to the patio, and I was trying to get our kit in from the van. They were right in my way but wouldn’t move until I told them to shift themselves. And they didn’t act like normal punters.’

‘What do you mean?’ Sophie asked.

The man scratched his bulging stomach. ‘Well, most people try to be helpful. Some even help me shift the kit. But these two just gave me a look — it was meant to scare me. Fuck’s sake. I told them to fucking move or there’d be trouble. They shifted a bit after that. But they weren’t happy bunnies, and I don’t just mean with me. They were uneasy about something, but I couldn’t tell what.’

‘Did you hear anything they were saying?’

‘No. But they were definitely disagreeing over something. They weren’t there all evening. When I was reloading the van after the gig, they’d gone.’

‘And you’re sure it was them — the two we’re asking about?’

‘Yes. And one of them . . . I think I’ve seen him before somewhere.’

‘Do you mean here? At Swanage? This weekend or some previous blues festival?’

‘We’ve never played here before, so it must have been somewhere else. But I can’t be absolutely sure. He just seemed kind of familiar, know what I mean? I was thinking about it just now, before you came in. It could have been at some other festival.’

‘How many do you play?’ Marsh asked.

‘About six or so each year. The rest of our gigs are in pubs along the south-east coast. We’ve never been this far west before. But I don’t think it was at a normal gig. It could have been daytime so it was probably at another festival. We’ve done an occasional jazz festival, so it might have been at one of them.’

‘Can you put together a list of festivals you’ve played at over the past couple of years and include it with your statement?’ said Marsh.

‘Sure.’

Sophie broke in. ‘Which one was it? The one you’ve seen before?’

‘The shorter one. I reckon he was the boss. I didn’t recognise the other one. Rude bastards.’

They left a local detective to take a statement.

‘This makes it even stranger, Barry. If they were disagreeing, what was it about? There’s something complicated going on here. Whatever they were up to, something went wrong, and Sarah’s death last night was the consequence. We need to find what other festivals there are, and start looking for links.’

Marsh’s phone sounded. He listened in silence.

‘We have an address for Sarah Sheldon in Portsmouth. The address she used on the hotel’s reservation slip matches what Rosemary told us, and the local force in Portsmouth have just confirmed it. They’ll have someone to meet us there and a forensic team on standby.’ He took a quick look at his watch. ‘In about an hour and a half. Can we make it in time?’

‘I’ve bought a new car, Barry. Just watch me go.’

* * *

The interior of the flat was neat and clean. The hallway smelled of polish and the scent from a vase of slightly faded flowers sitting on a shelf beside the front door. Everything seemed relatively new, all the furniture, carpets and accessories. The lounge had a small bookcase containing recent paperback titles, along with a dictionary and some travel guides.

Sophie inspected the shelves and surfaces carefully, while the local Portsmouth man peered behind the furniture. Marsh opened the drawers and cupboards in a sideboard unit.