The Maggie Murders (22 page)

It had been very evidently a
summons to the Chief Constable’s office. Clearly the top brass were in a flap
about the latest killing. The press were already setting up for the duration
outside the Constabulary’s headquarters at Middlemoor on the outskirts of
Exeter. Driving through the gates Jane noticed that it was not only the locals
and the nationals, but that a fleet of foreign TV vans had joined the armada of
media vehicles parked outside.

Chief Constable George Dent was
seated between the flanking presence of both Deputy Chief Constable Chris
Harding and Detective Chief Superintendent Simon Osborne when she was escorted
in to what was more of a suite than an office by Dent’s P.A. Of course he would
be far too grand to have just a secretary. The top brass were clustered around
the polished mahogany conference table watching a BBC news reporter giving the
latest details on the killings from Cathedral Close. Further down the table was
DCI Neville Jordan; at one stage they had both been sergeants together, now he
was nominally leading the enquiry.

‘Detective Sergeant Hawkins, Sir,
‘announced the flunkey.

Dent waved an imperious hand and
indicated she should sit down on one of the empty chairs at the end of the
table.

‘…latest reports indicate that
these murders may not just be connected by Mrs Thatcher’s political victories,
but may have an even more bizarre link to a nursery rhyme. Some of the experts
I’ve spoken to are now calling these three deaths the Rub-a-dub killings.’

Dent pressed the mute button on
the remote and turned to Jane.

‘What do you think, Sergeant? You
helped to investigate the earlier killings.’

Jane tried to compose herself.
Dent’s sallow face offered no encouragement and the other officers in their
full dress uniforms just seemed to look glad that she was on the end of the
questions for now.

‘Well all three victims were
burnt to death, though this is the first one to die outside of Exmouth. The
first two died on the nights of the ’83 and ’87 General Elections, whilst this
one was only a leadership elec…’

‘I mean what about the
‘Rub-a-dub’ rubbish that the media is jumping on.  Are we still dealing with
The Maggie Murders, or is there something else behind these killings? We’re
going to be under the scrutiny of the world’s press in a few hours and I want
answers to stuff I don’t know!‘

Jane had been slapped down before
in her career and by better men than Dent, yet it still stung. Later, after a
large glass of Chablis she would be able to frame the perfect retort to her
smarmy boss, along the lines that there would be too little time left in the world
to fill Dent in on everything he didn’t know, unfortunately like most ripostes
it had come too late for her to use it in the large, but uncomfortably close
office she was sitting in.

‘If the killer is following the
rhyme, than they’ve chosen three victims who could fit: George Kellow was a
butcher, Calum Baker was a soldier, but obviously his surname gives him a
connection to the rhyme and arguably Gerald Mallowan was a candlestick-maker,’
was her best response.

‘Arguably?’ asked DCS Osborne.

‘His main line of business was as
a successful property developer. His wife ran a number of fashionable shops
selling candles, candlesticks and other high class fashion accessories, but the
business was in his name and financed by him. He was also found dead in the
office above the Exeter branch of ‘Scandalabra’.  I don’t think that was a
coincidence. I think for the killer he would be the best fit for a traditional
candlestick-maker in this digital age.’

If it was possible for Dent to
look unhappier, he managed it.

‘Weren’t they all in the forces?’

‘Kellow and Baker were both war
heroes – Kellow picked up a Military Medal in World War 2 and Baker was
crippled in the Falklands, but Mallowan only ever completed his National
Service. ‘

Jane consulted her notebook.

‘And he spent his time square
bashing on military bases up north so there is no obvious military link.’

‘Which line do you go with,
‘pursued Osborne, ‘Maggie Murders, or Rub-a-Dub killings?’

Jane took time to reflect.
Osborne at least seemed genuinely interested in what she had to say, Dent on
the other hand was just trying to play down the inevitable shit storm which was
going to follow. As the driving force behind the failed prosecution of Connie
Baker, the new Chief Constable was going to be looking for someone else to
deflect the blame. She hoped it wasn’t going to be her career which was being
considered for the sacrificial altar. After the departures of Sobers and
Spilsbury that would give Dent a hat trick of dismissals…

‘I’d plump for the rub-a-dub
killings, Sir,’ she answered, ‘we’ve now had three killings we can link to the
nursery rhyme, whilst our killer could never be certain that Maggie would do
them a favour by winning three elections in a row.’

‘Four elections if we count this
leadership one, ‘harrumphed Dent.

‘Exactly, sir, but there were no
murders in 1979 that we could connect to these killings and so I’d say the link
is between this latest killing and those in ’83 and ’87.’

‘And what of Constance Baker?’
Osborne asked.

At least the DCS didn’t seem
unafraid of voicing the one question which hung heavy in the air, thought
Jane.  He probably had less to lose than Dent over that one.

‘We felt the evidence in the case
of Calum Baker made her the prime suspect and DCI Spilsbury had no faith in the
idea that there might be a link with the Kellow case.’

She was trying to be as
diplomatic as possible, without making it seem she was dumping everything on
Spilsbury. That wouldn’t have looked good. The service still valued loyalty,
even if it was misplaced.

Osborne though was a step ahead
of her.

‘And you did think the two cases
were linked?’

‘I thought it was a reasonable
possibility.’

She felt the stares of the three
senior officers on her; she hadn’t felt this uncomfortable at an interview
since flailing around trying to form a coherent answer to a question about the
success of Louis XIV’s foreign policy when applying to read History at Bath.

‘And what of her acquittal, did
you think she was guilty?’

A sudden agitation on Dent’s
normally composed face, gave her a breathing space. She wasn’t the only one
being put out by Osborne’s line of questioning.

‘As you’ll be aware, there was a
lot of pressure at the time to get a result.  We had had a strong
circumstantial case; however when our star witness perjured himself we lost the
faith of the jury.’

‘Would you say some of that
pressure you spoke about might have been applied to getting your witness to
testify against her?’ pressed Osborne.

‘I wasn’t the senior
investigating officer, sir.’

With three children and a husband
to support, she was not going to sacrifice her career over a decision she had
bitterly opposed – loyalty had to stop somewhere.

Yet Osborne’s line of questioning
and the reference to Nigel Byrne’s fabricated account of taking Connie back to
her house on the night of the murder seemed to be causing more anxiety to Dent
than to her, which may have explained his next sudden outburst:

‘Did you think she was guilty? A
simple yes or no will suffice.’

‘No.’

Clearly this did not suffice.

‘And yet you went along with the
decision to charge her!’

The Chief Constable’s usual mask
of equanimity and sangfroid had been replaced by a face more animated than her
children’s old Disney videos. Yet when she saw this uncharacteristic and vile
display of raw emotion on his face, she knew that if this was a poker game then
she had won.

‘Am I here to assist in these
enquiries, or to answer questions about my professional conduct in another
case?’ she flashed back. ‘If DCI Spilsbury and I were under any undue pressure
to gain a conviction it came from above our pay scale.’

In her anger, she had lost all
fear and respect for the man who glowered across the desk at her in the brief
authority of his recent promotion.

DCS Osborne having recovered from
his surprise at the recent turn of events, came in with the skills of a born
mediator – ‘I’m sure we’re all feeling the pressure of trying to solve these
shocking crimes, DS Hawkins and I know the Chief Constable welcomes any insight
you can bring to bear on the previous cases, especially given the sad
circumstances surrounding DCI Spilsbury’s recent death.’

For a moment Jane thought she had
misheard.

‘Death?’

‘I’m sorry, we assumed you knew?’

The anger building up in Jane had
evaporated. A sense of shock was beginning to replace it.

With a kindly look DCS Osborne
continued –

‘Former DCI Brian Spilsbury died
of cancer of the colon a fortnight ago. According to his wife it seemed he’d
left it too late to get it treated. By the time it was diagnosed he had just
weeks remaining.’

Shame was now fighting with grief
in a bid to master her emotions. Had she been speaking ill of a dead man? It
wasn’t as if they’d been close friends, but they had been close colleagues and
in the service that was never anything to be treated lightly.

Even Dent seemed to be trying to
be nice to her now. He had made a clumsy attempt to offer her water, nearly
pushing the crystal carafe on to her and then over doing it further by pulling
out one of those monogrammed hankies. As if she was going to cry in front of that
bastard!

‘That’s why we need you to help
us understand if Constance Baker could still have been connected to the murder
of her husband. We can’t try her for that one again, but if she’s guilty of
either of the others we may still have a case to make against her. It might
help prove that your former boss was right after all – we all know juries can
get it wrong…‘

In her head Jane was selecting
which flowers to send to Felicity as a belated tribute to her old boss, even so
she was still able to compose a reply to Osborne’s diplomatically phrased
question.

‘There was no motive as far as I
could see. Despite her cheating on the husband, she claims it was done with her
husband’s full knowledge.’

Dent raised a quizzical eyebrow,
but kept his counsel. Even so she felt the need to elaborate.

 ‘And I believe she loved her
husband. The amount of time and care she gave Calum after his injuries was
phenomenal. She also had the money in that relationship, being Daddy’s little
pampered princess before she spoilt it all by marrying a commoner. Even their
house was bought with the proceeds of her trust fund.’

She paused. Thinking about the
case acted as a temporary anodyne to focussing on her thoughts about Spilsbury.

‘I really don’t believe she was
guilty. I think the jury got this one right.’

Dent’s lips pursed.

She watched in surprise as he
pushed himself up from behind the table. The others seemed more used to his
moods though and remained seated whilst he made a performance out of walking to
the window and staring dramatically into the distance. The hands he clasped
behind his back were surprisingly dainty and feminine she noticed.

Having given them the full
benefit of this Churchill like moment, he turned to face the assembled company.
He was probably enjoying the temporary height advantage thought Jane.

‘Right, I’m calling a press
conference for this afternoon!‘ he announced to no-one’s surprise.

He then barked out a series of
instructions. She was rather surprised to see she was still included in the
plan of campaign. He was either trying to take her mind off the sad news she
had just learnt, or still favoured the idea of having a scapegoat at the ready.

 ‘DCS Osborne will co-ordinate an
investigation into all three deaths. DCI Jordan will head up the team investigating
Mallowan’s murder. DS Hawkins, I would like you to liaise with DCS Osborne and
keep him abreast of any possible connections with the earlier murders. DCS
Osborne and DS Hawkins will accompany me to the press conference. Neither of
you will have to say anything, as my DCC. will prepare a short statement for me
to read to the press. You’ll need your dress uniform Sergeant, as we’re going
to have the eyes of the world upon us.’

As Jane got up to go, Dent turned
to her –

‘My condolences,’ he said and
offered her an awkward and clammy handshake. Well at least he hadn’t tried to
kiss her. Perhaps Judas had taken out a monopoly on those?

‘Thank-you, ‘she muttered.

‘Wasn’t there a coloured chap who
led the original investigation? A poof?’

‘That was D.I. Sobers, sir,’
replied Jane defensively.

‘Of course. Pity things didn’t
turn out well for him, as he had the makings of an excellent officer.‘

Dent turned to his P.A. ‘See if
you can find some photos of Sobers to give out to the press, it’ll be good to
show that a force like ours has senior coloured officers.’

‘Had,’ said Jane to herself as
she left, ‘and the word is black.’

She made a mental note of the
fact that neither the DCC, nor D.C.I. Jordan had said anything throughout the
interview. That must be how you got ahead she decided. And the only reason she
was going to have to go through the palaver of dusting down her dress uniform
was so that she could be Dent’s token woman at the press conference. She
wondered if he was going to have Derek’s picture blown up into a cardboard
cut-out of him, which would then be placed strategically in front of the
assembled media, in a vain attempt to show how progressive the force had become
under his leadership…

Despairing of Dent’s PR games,
she went to order a wreath.

****