Ten Guilty Men (A DCI Morton Crime Novel Book 3) (16 page)

‘It looks like it’s been lifted straight from Parker’s Modern Wills. I should know. I used it for mine!

‘So it’s valid?’ Morton asked.

‘It’s a little generic but it should pass muster,’ Kieran said. ‘I take it that it was drafted by a non-lawyer?’

‘It’s from a DIY will kit.’

‘Ah. Plenty of pitfalls there, but this one doesn’t seem too bad. She’s got one beneficiary and leaves him pretty much everything. Very little room for dispute over the terms. I’m no probate lawyer, but it looks legally sound. I don’t like the state it’s in though. Are you thinking it’s forged?’

Morton nodded. ‘Can’t prove it though. I’ll have to have a specialist give it the once-over. I don’t suppose you know anyone?’

‘Sorry. Fraud is outside my bailiwick these days. I’ll ask round for you though if you like.’

‘Please.’

‘Now can I nick a sandwich? I’d best be heading off. I’ve got to get all the way out to Snaresbrook Crown Court.’

‘Go on then. But not the bacon sarnies. They’re off limits.’

‘T’anks,’ Kieran said as he stuffed a sandwich in his mouth, then sprinted for the door.

‘Lawyers,’ Morton muttered. He turned to Ayala and Mayberry, who had simply watched the whole conversation. ‘You two going to sit there like lemons or have you anything to add?’

‘Don’t look at me,’ Ayala said. ‘I’m on lunch.’

‘Mayberry?’

‘I...’

‘Spit it out. We haven’t got all day.’

‘S-sorry. M-my aphai – aphai – aphai–’

‘Aphasia gets the better of you, yes, we know.’

‘The autographs.’

‘Signatures,’ Morton corrected.

‘They’re s-suspects.’

‘Not this again. Ayala, have you been coaching him?’

Ayala looked up from his lunch. ‘He’s not wrong. They could all have done it.’

Morton shook his head vehemently. ‘No bleeding way. This is not an Agatha Christie novel. One victim does not get murdered by an entire party full of people. You mark my words.’

‘Then who do you like?’

‘It’s not Aleksander Barchester. It stretches credibility that he’d leave naked, come back and kill someone, then leave without his clothes again. Kal could have done it, but he’d have to have left and come back. Brianna likewise. Gabriella and Paddy are each other’s alibi and the extra hour we gain from the clock change doesn’t affect that. Both Kal and Brianna could have returned. They both live within a reasonable travelling distance, and both left early enough that they now have a window of almost three hours apiece.’

‘The boyfriend and the sister. How do we tell which one?’

‘Let’s check the route between Edgecombe Lodge and the suspects’ homes. We’ll start with Kal as his place is marginally closer. That’ll narrow down our timings.’

‘And w-we can check for v-video t-tapey things on the way,’ Mayberry added.

‘Yes, Mayberry, we can check for, ahem, video tapey things too.’

Chapter 28: Walkies

Monday April 14
^th
– 14:00

They arrived at Edgecombe Lodge at 14:00. The plan was to travel from Edgecombe Lodge to Kal’s residence in Twickenham. It was only a two-mile trip. Morton felt confident that a former footballer would be in good enough physical condition to complete a round trip of four miles in no time at all.

‘Bets, gentlemen?’ Morton asked.

‘Half an hour for the walking,’ Ayala said.

‘And for the running team?’

‘Ten minutes.’

‘Excellent. I’ll take eleven minutes and thirty-one seconds. Shall we say a pint for the nearest guess for each half?’ Morton smiled. There was no way poor Mayberry would run it in under ten minutes.

‘You’re on.’

‘Are we happy with our routes? We’ll go out on the A305, and we’ll come back on the A316. There shouldn’t be much difference in times, but we need to check both routes for CCTV as Mayberry suggested. Make a mental note, and we’ll circle back around again after doing the timings.’ Morton referred to the two bridges that separated Richmond and Twickenham which were, rather originally Morton thought, called the Richmond Bridge and the Twickenham Bridge. Kal could have used either.

‘In the car?’ Ayala asked.

‘Yes, in the car. We don’t have all day. On your marks, get set, go!’

***

Three hours later, the three detectives were in the Orange Tree enjoying a much-earned pint. Morton’s was paid for by Ayala, and they had taken to a table under a heater outside to watch the world go by in central Richmond. The afternoon was warm and only minimally breezy, so it was no surprise how quickly the pub packed out as the evening wore on.

It had taken Mayberry almost fourteen minutes to run the 1.9-mile route, and nearly seventeen coming back the other way, which was a hair longer at 2.1 miles.

At Morton and Ayala’s more leisurely pace, the trip still only took thirty-eight and forty-three minutes respectively, and that was with traffic. If they’d needed to wait at lights then all the journeys would have been substantially quicker.

The conclusion was obvious: Kallum Fielder had more than enough time to make it home, and still be back in the window of opportunity.

Less fortunately, they had proved he made it home. CCTV on the A310 where it crossed the River Crane showed Kal going past at 12:42, eighteen minutes before the clock change.

‘What that CCTV didn’t show is Kal coming back,’ Ayala said after he had drained his second pint.

‘An absence of proof is not proof of absence. He could easily have come back another way. First thing tomorrow, I want both of you checking the backstreets for any routes he could have taken to get back. Ayala, you concentrate on finding CCTV-free routes from Edgecombe Lodge to the river. Mayberry, you get the other end.’

‘Rightio, boss.’

‘Next round is on me.’

‘Really? I owe you another one from the bet.’

‘Yes, really. I knew I’d win,’ Morton said. ‘I checked Google Maps for timings before I made the bet.’

Chapter 29: Jailhouse Snitch

Tuesday April 15th– 10:00

On Tuesday morning, Morton got a call from Ashley Rafferty, the feisty parole officer who’d nabbed Paddy before Morton could interrogate him.

She insisted on a meeting that morning, and so once Morton had made sure Ayala and Mayberry were busy checking alternative routes, he headed to meet her on neutral ground. She picked the meeting place, a coffee shop tucked away behind Great Ormond Street Hospital.

Though he was early, Morton found her waiting for him with two empty mugs beside her.

‘You been here a while?’ Morton gestured at the coffee mugs.

‘Nope. Not really. I had a meeting here half an hour ago, so it was convenient for us to meet here.’

‘Convenient for you, maybe,’ Morton said quietly as he sat down.

‘Hah. I keep forgetting you’re the boss around here. Speaking of which, did I hear there’s an opening on your team?’

‘That’s why you called me to an urgent meeting? You want a job?’

‘Nope. I like to kill two birds with one stone. I used to be a DS before moving into probation. I want back onto proper work. I want onto your team.’

‘So do a lot of people. You’re very direct, you know. Taking liberties with a DCI’s time, then demanding a job takes some real cojones. What’ve you got to back it up?’

‘Paddy Malone. He had a visitor yesterday.’

‘Who?’

‘Kallum Fielder.’

‘Interesting. Not enough to buy you an interview, but thanks anyway.’ Morton made as if to stand.

Ashley grabbed his arm. ‘Sit.’

‘This ought to be good.’

‘For such a famous detective, you’re a snarky bugger, aren’t you? I’m not done. Mr Fielder tried to pass Patrick a mobile phone and a bundle of twenties across the visiting room table.’

‘How’d he get those in there?’

‘You ever heard of plugging?’

Morton shook his head.

‘You don’t want to. Just trust me, there are ways and means of getting things into Pentonville if you’re willing to experience some discomfort. Unfortunately for Mr Fielder, one of the guards was watching him like a hawk.’

‘Good to know we’ve got such attentive guards.’

‘Sorry. I’m afraid not. The guy just wanted Kal’s autograph.’

‘Is that it?’

‘That’s it. Would you mind moving from that seat? It’s just I’ve got a ten-thirty meeting with one of my parolees.’

Chapter 30: Secrets

Tuesday April 15
^th
–13:00

The Old Coach House beckoned on Tuesday afternoon. Morton knew Vladivoben lied about not attending the party. The other attendees had put him there early evening, long before the murder took place.He wasn’t really much of a suspect. By all accounts he left well before the other guests, with company which would presumably provide him with an alibi, and he had no plausible reason to have murdered Ellis DeLange. They’d argued about noise on occasion, but that had to come with the territory of living near a party-hosting neighbour. Perhaps they’d squabbled about Ellis’ guests blocking up the road with their cars.

None of that was enough to kill over. But lies were only told by those who had something to hide.

Curiosity might have killed the cat, but then again it surely would have caught the cat’s killer too. Ferreting out secrets was Morton’s drug of choice, and he simply had to know why Vladivoben lied.

Maria answered the security gate and let Morton in. The sun was shining, and Morton was shown through to the rear garden where Vladivoben was reclining in a deck chair sunbathing, with a jug of iced tea and a trashy magazine set upon a low table next to him.

He sat up when Morton stepped onto the veranda, and squinted into the sunlight.

‘DCI Mormon–’

‘Morton. It’s DCI Morton. And would you please put a shirt on?’

Vladivoben shrugged as if it was of no concern to him, and then pulled his shirt on.

‘You lied to me, Mr Vladivoben.’

‘I lie? About what?’ Vladivoben played dumb.

‘You said you didn’t go to the party, and I believe you also disclaimed knowing Miss DeLange socially.’

‘Is that a crime?’

‘Yes. Obstructing my investigation is a crime, and I take it personally. Why did you lie?’

‘It doesn’t matter. I was there. I left. End of, yes?’ He tugged at the collar of his shirt as if he was going to take it back off and return to his sunbathing session.

‘No, Mr Vladivoben. It matters because you made it matter. What time did you leave?’

‘Nine thirty, ten o’clock. Ask Maria.’

‘Witnesses saw you leaving with someone else. Is that correct?’

‘
Da
.’

‘A man. Who was he?’

‘I do not know.’

‘You don’t know? I’m not sure you’re taking this seriously, Mr Vladivoben. This is a murder enquiry and you’re making it very difficult to trust you. If you’ve been hiding something then now is the time to tell me. If it isn’t illegal, it won’t go any further than this veranda.’

‘Promise?’

‘Yes.’

Vladivoben looked anxious. He whispered almost inaudibly: ‘In Russia, we do not have...’

‘Men who like other men?’

‘
Da
.’

‘You’re gay. That’s what all this secrecy is about?’

‘
Da
.’

‘Then I shall leave you to your sunbathing. Thanks for your time, Mr Vladivoben.’

Lies were always suspicious. They get told for a myriad of reasons of which guilt is but one. This time, it seemed, the lie had been born out of fear not guilt.

Chapter 31: Authenticity

Wednesday April 16th – 10:30

‘He was hiding the fact he was gay?’ Ayala asked incredulously. He and Morton were sitting in the Incident Room topping up on their morning coffee.

‘Yep. Poor sod was tying himself up in knots over it,’ Morton replied.

‘I could have told you that a week ago. He’s not exactly, well, subtle.’

‘Well, when we next need a forensic gaydar, I’ll give you a ring. Until then, have you found me an expert on forging wills?’

‘Not wills specifically, but Kieran came up with a name for us. Radley Freeman.’

‘Why do I feel like I’ve heard that name before?’

‘He got convicted in the late eighties for printing his own £20 notes. Got out ten years later, and now works as an expert witness testifying mostly in civil trials. Kieran said he comes highly recommended.’

‘Right. I guess we’ll have to book him then.’

‘Err...’

‘You already did?’

‘Uh-huh... He’s waiting in the conference room for us now. And I’ve got the original will too. Picked it up from Kal myself first thing this morning.’ Ayala puffed up his chest proudly, certain that Morton would be pleased. Instead, he was furious.

‘You let an ex-con into the building without even telling me first? Are you insane?’

‘But Kieran said–’

‘I don’t care what Kieran said. You work for me. If you want to stay second-in-command, you run things like that by me. Otherwise the new DI will also be your new supervisor.’

‘New DI? You’ve hired someone?’

‘I’m sitting on a CV.’

‘Who?’

‘Ashley Rafferty. I’m sure she’ll have forgiven you by now for assuming she was a man...’ Morton said.

‘You can’t hire her. She’s a complete ball-buster. There’s got to be someone else.’

‘We’ll see,’ Morton said. ‘Well, let’s not keep our forgery specialist waiting.’

***

Radley Freeman was a big man with a booming voice that echoed around the conference room when he spoke. Morton supposed it worked well in court, but in the confines of the conference room it was practically deafening.

‘Documents which have been forged tend to be flawed in some kind of way. You said this wasn’t prepared by a lawyer, so presumably the content is of little assistance in discerning provenance,’ Radley said.

‘That’s right,’ Morton replied. ‘It’s from a fill-in-the-blanks will kit.’

‘Then it’ll look like every other will using that template, and if that template is cheaply available–’