Lethal Waves Page 16

  No, but he wasn’t going to tell her that yet, not until they had thoroughly checked. He said, ‘It’s not one of the stolen pistols and yet it was in your husband’s possession.’ But had it been? wondered Horton, recalling what Gaye had said. If Clements had been killed maybe the killer had brought the gun with him. Clements had been a gun collector. Perhaps he’d bought his guns from dubious sources. He could have come across some nasty bastards whom he might owe money. Or perhaps he’d been asked to supply guns to a criminal. But a criminal or a collector wouldn’t have left it behind, unless he wanted it to look like suicide.

  He’d given her another chance to tell them about the phoney robbery. She didn’t take it. Maybe she didn’t know about it. Perhaps he was wrong and there really had been a robbery and one that her husband had colluded in, not for insurance purposes but to allow the pistols to get into criminal hands.

  He said, ‘I know this must be very difficult for you, but do you know of any reason why your husband was at Milton Common?’

  ‘Was that where … where he was found?’

  Horton nodded.

  She looked baffled. Her hands unclasped and began to fiddle with her bracelet, turning it round and round. ‘I’ve no idea. Why would he go there?’ She appealed to them with pleading in her blue eyes seeking the answers, but they had none to give.

  Cantelli took up the questioning. ‘Was your husband in financial difficulties?’

  Horton remembered that Treadware had said that Clements hadn’t been the most prompt of payers and he hadn’t settled his account for the servicing of the alarm in October.

  ‘Not that I’m aware of.’

  ‘You have a joint account?’

  ‘Yes, but Vivian deals with all the finances. He never said anything was wrong. You think he could have shot himself because of that?’ Her eyes scoured their faces for explanations.

  ‘We’ll need to look into it,’ Cantelli said.

  ‘Yes, I suppose you must.’ She glanced down at her hands and then pressed them together and held them tightly in her lap.

  ‘Was he in good health?’

  ‘Yes.’ Her voice was strained and her face was growing more haggard by the minute. Cantelli, noticing this, asked her if there was anyone they could call who could comfort her but she shook her head.

  ‘No. I’ll be OK. I just can’t take it in. I can’t believe he’d do this. I should have understood. I shouldn’t have said such dreadful things.’

  ‘You mustn’t blame yourself,’ Cantelli said.

  ‘But I do.’ She rounded on him. ‘If I hadn’t shouted back at him he wouldn’t have left the house and …’ She rose and turned away from them towards the fireplace. Cantelli exchanged a glance with Horton. After a moment, she turned back, clearly with an effort to control her emotions.

  ‘Will I need to see him?’

  Horton answered. ‘We’ll need you to make a formal identification.’ The mortician would make sure to cover the top part of the head which had been blown away. And perhaps then she’d be ready to tell them what had really happened.

  ‘When?’ she said a little harshly.

  ‘Detective Sergeant Cantelli will arrange it and let you know.’

  She nodded solemnly.

  Horton continued, ‘Did your husband give you any indication of where he went on Tuesday night?’

  ‘No. He went straight into his collection room and came to bed about midnight. He’d been drinking.’

  ‘And on Wednesday?’

  ‘He was very short-tempered and edgy. As I told you, we began arguing. I walked out and when I came back he was gone.’ Her set expression told Horton she was not prepared to go into details of what they had been arguing about. He believed it was over the phoney robbery. They’d get it from her later but he didn’t think now was the time to put pressure on her to reveal it. Uckfield would probably disagree but Horton thought it would only make her more determined to say nothing. He could also probe her about her relationship with Freedman and ask if she’d called him and arranged to meet him on Tuesday night, but if she had he was back to that same old question: why would Freedman dress up as a vagrant?

  He rose. ‘Are you sure there’s no one we can call for you?’

  ‘No. Thanks. I’ll manage.’

  Before leaving, Cantelli obtained her bank details and the name of her husband’s doctor.

  In the car, Horton said, ‘Was she having an affair with Freedman?’

  Cantelli did a three-point turn and headed towards the seafront.

  ‘I’m not sure. She didn’t make the connection and she seemed genuinely confounded that her husband could kill himself. She’s holding something back, though, and once she’s over the initial shock it’ll be interesting to see what her reaction is. I certainly don’t think her marriage was a very happy one. Perhaps she’ll be glad she’s rid of him and she’ll probably be quite wealthy if she sells the collection and the house, unless Clements is mortgaged to the hilt. I’ll check that with his bank.’

  Perhaps, like Evelyn Lyster, she’d get rid of everything that reminded her of her husband and start afresh. Evelyn Lyster’s marriage had by all accounts been a part-time one with her husband abroad so often. Horton glanced at the clock on the dashboard and was astounded to see it was almost three o’clock. The day was racing away and so much had happened. They’d had no chance to eat. The inquest into Evelyn Lyster’s death must be over by now and Guilbert would have dropped Rowan Lyster off at the airport for his fifteen fifty-five flight home. Horton switched on his phone and saw he’d missed a call from Guilbert. Horton returned it as Cantelli drove through the busy streets towards the station.

  Horton asked first about the inquest on Evelyn Lyster and got the expected reply.

  ‘Open and adjourned for a fortnight to give us more time. Rowan Lyster didn’t seem very happy about that, but that’s understandable. The coroner issued a burial certificate. And before you ask, Andy, I’m still waiting on the toxicology results.’

  Horton asked how his chat with Rowan had gone.

  ‘Dennis Lyster was insured but Rowan has no idea if his mother was. He doesn’t know why she visited the Isle of Wight. They don’t have any relatives there and his mother never mentioned having friends on the Island. He was uneasy when I mentioned his father’s body being found by Ryde Pier, but when I suggested that his mother might have gone to the Isle of Wight as a way of getting close to the deceased or in an act of remembrance, he stared at me as though I had a screw loose. He says his parents led quite separate lives and he didn’t see a lot of them growing up because he’d been away at school.’

  Horton said he’d let him know if he came up with anything his end. Walters would have been back from the Clements’ cleaners long ago and would have had time to view the footage from the port for sightings of Evelyn Lyster there on Monday. There had to be a reason why she had travelled to the Isle of Wight the day before travelling to Guernsey and it wasn’t because she liked ferries. By the time he’d updated Cantelli they were pulling into the station car park. Horton stopped off in the canteen to buy some sandwiches while Cantelli headed for the CID operations room to eat his homemade ones.

  Horton needed to report back on how Constance Clements had taken the news of her husband’s death but first he returned to CID to eat his lunch and get an update from Walters, who was busily munching his way through a packet of Jaffa Cakes.

  ‘June Valentine confirmed that her company has been cleaning for the Clements for eight months. The cleaners go in twice a week, Mondays and Fridays. Monday they do the ground floor and the basement, not the collection room, but they clean Vivian Clements’ study, and Fridays the bedrooms and bathrooms on the first floor. There are a couple of rooms on the top floor used for storing things but they only do that once a month. The last time was in November before the cruise.’

  Just as Constance Clements had told them, with the exception of that top-floor room, which was interesting.

  ‘I had to h
ang around to talk to the two women who regularly clean the Clements’ house, Shirley Yardley and Patricia Richmond, because they were out working, which was why I was so long.’

  Knowing Walters, he’d have found the nearest café and filled his face.

  ‘They said that Constance was friendly and let them get on with the work but he was a pain in the proverbial. He never smiled, said good morning, kiss my arse or nothing. Stuck up.’

  ‘Well, he’s not any more.’

  ‘Yeah, I heard he’s dead. Top himself, did he?’

  ‘That’s what we’re waiting for Dr Clayton to confirm. When were the cleaners last at the house?’

  ‘December, before the Clements went on their cruise. They were due to go in tomorrow but Mrs Clements telephoned yesterday afternoon and cancelled it. They’re still scheduled to clean on Monday.’

  ‘Did she give a reason why she’d cancelled?’

  ‘Said she didn’t need them, having just returned from the cruise. She didn’t mention the robbery. I’ve run Shirley Yardley and Patricia Richmond’s details through criminal records. They’re both clean, as June Valentine was at great pains to tell me. She said all her staff are criminally checked before they’re engaged and come with excellent references.’

  Cantelli looked up from his computer. ‘They could have lied and faked their references.’

  ‘That’s what I said and wish I hadn’t. I thought Ms Valentine was going to knee me in the balls for even suggesting it. She’s built like a sumo wrestler. She made it clear that if any of her employees lied then they’d better look out for their kneecaps.’

  ‘And if the clients don’t pay their bills?’

  ‘She doesn’t need to send in any heavies – believe me, she’s scary enough to frighten anyone into coughing up. The Clements paid on time because they pay by standing order.’

  Horton polished off his sandwich. ‘And do Valentines clean for Peter Freedman or Evelyn Lyster?’

  ‘Neither. They’ve got two other clients in Darrin Road: a toffee-nosed naval captain and his equally snotty blonde bimbo wife – the cleaners’ words, not mine – and an elderly couple who wax lyrically about their son, Derek, who lives with them and is some kind of computer nut. They’re not allowed to touch his office either, which is in the basement. I asked if the cleaners had seen any vans or cars parked outside the Clements’ house or in their driveway at any time they were on their cruise but they both said they hadn’t.’

  ‘And the CCTV footage from the port?’

  With his mouth full, Walters said, ‘She’s on camera, sitting in the waiting lounge. Smart, good-looking woman.’

  ‘Doing what?’

  ‘Nothing. Just sitting. She’s not reading or on her phone. She doesn’t look nervous or excited. And she didn’t buy anything while waiting.’

  ‘Did anyone talk to her?’

  ‘No. And no one sat near her either.’

  ‘Did anyone approach her outside after the taxi driver had dropped her off?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Did she drink from her cup flask?’

  ‘Not while the camera was on her. And as far as I can see, she didn’t visit the ladies’ room either.’

  But perhaps she’d taken a drink from that cup flask in the minibus on the way to board the ferry and finished drinking it in her cabin.

  Horton asked Walters to get on to the cruise company to check what Constance Clements had told them about the cruise to Japan and to find out if Freedman had been on the same cruise, either as a passenger or a guest lecturer. ‘Check with the Border Agency to see if he’s travelled abroad, where and when.’

  Horton reported into the incident suite where Uckfield, seeing him, beckoned him in to his office. A few seconds later, Bliss entered, probably scared she was going to miss out on something, but maybe Uckfield had already instructed her to join them because he buzzed through to Dennings and Trueman and ordered them in. The phones were ringing constantly. Horton didn’t need to be told that the world and his wife were calling in about the coat Freedman had been wearing. Even the usually implacable Trueman looked slightly harassed. He reported that the fingerprint bureau had rung to say that the prints in Freedman’s flat were neither of the Clements.

  Horton relayed Constance Clements’ reaction to the news of her husband’s death and that she denied ever having seen the gun.

  Trueman said, ‘It’s a Victorian British Robert Adams Patent Large Frame .54-inch Bore Five Shot Double Action Percussion Revolver.’ As Horton had already said but Trueman had obviously got more details. Horton mentally noted that Freedman had been shot with a percussion revolver and knew that the others around Uckfield’s conference table were also thinking the same, Bliss by her usual scowl, Dennings by his smug look and Uckfield by his sniff.

  Trueman continued, ‘It was retailed by Maynard Harris & Grice, London. The markings are on the pistol. Robert Adams was a nineteenth-century British gunsmith who patented the first successful double-action revolver in 1851. This revolver,’ he stabbed at the pictures he had spread out on the table in front of them, ‘was manufactured in 1861. Adams’ revolvers were a popular private purchase weapon for British Army Officers. It fires moulded lead balls and conical bullets. Yeah, so it fits with what Dr Clayton said about Freedman being shot with a lead-based conical shaped bullet. It’s worth about four thousand pounds and doesn’t require a licence as it’s classed as an antique as long as it’s kept as part of a collection or display.’

  Horton said, ‘Except it doesn’t seem to have been in Clements’ collection – or rather, in his display.’

  ‘And he got ammunition for it and made it function,’ said Uckfield.

  ‘And he never notified us or a firearms officer about any of his weapons,’ added Bliss.

  Dennings said, ‘Perhaps he’d only just bought it on that last cruise. The National Ballistics Intelligence Service say there are no incidents matching the Clements’ MO or of anyone being shot with any of the guns stolen from Vivian Clements.’

  ‘Ask them if they’ve got anything that matches this Adams gun,’ Uckfield commanded.

  Trueman continued, ‘Our ballistic expert claims that Clements’ stolen antique pistols could be made to fire if someone was hell-bent on making bullets for them but it would take someone who knew what they were doing and had the equipment to do so and in-depth knowledge of the guns. He says the Adams revolver has been fired and he’s conducting tests on it to see if it matches the wounds inflicted on Freedman and Clements. That and Dr Clayton’s results on Clements’ autopsy should give us more.’

  ‘Have you got anything from Clements’ mobile phone?’ asked Horton.

  ‘His log of recent calls received confirms his wife rang him when she told you she did. She left a message each time. The last call he made was to his insurance company on Wednesday morning. There’s no record that he phoned Freedman or Freedman called him but he could have deleted it from his log. I’ve applied for his mobile phone records but they’ll take time to come through.’

  ‘Didn’t phone the Samaritans then,’ Uckfield said with heavy cynicism.

  ‘Seems not,’ Trueman answered, treating Uckfield’s remark as genuine though he knew it wasn’t.

  Dennings reported that the search on Milton Common hadn’t retrieved any bullet. ‘Just drink cans, sweet wrappers, empty fag packets, dog shit and those bags dog owners put their pooch’s crap in and then leave lying around or suspended from bushes, all of which have been bagged up,’ he added, though by his tone he clearly thought it a waste of time. Horton was in agreement. That part of the common would be the cleanest it had been for years. The search was still continuing but there was only an hour of good light left. Perhaps Gaye would find the bullet in Clements’ body.

  ‘Did SOCO find anything at the scene?’ Horton asked.

  Dennings answered, ‘There are several footprints close to the body. Harris, the footwear mark examiner, is comparing them with Vivian Clements’ shoes. But it’s too
muddy to lift clear enough marks.’

  Uckfield’s phone rang. He hauled himself up from the conference table and crossed to his desk. Glancing at the caller display, he said without picking it up, ‘It’s the press – Leanne Payne.’ He nodded at Bliss. ‘Call her and tell her you’ll give her an update as soon as we have anything to say.’

  Horton returned to his office to find Walters on the phone. Cantelli reported that he had an appointment with the Clements’ bank on Monday. Constance Clements had given the bank permission to divulge the financial information they required. He’d also spoken to Clements’ GP.

  ‘Apart from his inoculations for his travels abroad, Vivian Clements rarely saw the doctor and he’s never been treated for depression.’

  Walters replaced the receiver. ‘That was the cruise company. Peter Freedman wasn’t on the same cruise to Japan as the Clements and neither has he been on any of their other cruises to Japan or anywhere else.’

  Horton threw Cantelli a puzzled look. ‘Didn’t Constance Clements tell us she’d met Freedman on that cruise?’

  Cantelli quickly consulted his notes although Horton didn’t think he needed to. Horton was rapidly mentally replaying their conversation. Cantelli said, ‘She confirmed that she and her husband had been on a cruise to Japan and the timing fits with when Freedman had his inoculations for Japanese encephalitis, but she didn’t actually say that she’d met him on the boat.’

  Walters chipped in. ‘I’m still waiting for the Border Agency to tell us where Freedman travelled to and when.’

  ‘Did they meet in Japan by accident or by design?’ wondered Horton. ‘We know that Freedman must have gone there, otherwise why have the inoculation? What was Freedman doing there?’

  ‘Learning some new oriental practice like meditation or something?’ suggested Walters. ‘To go alongside his coaching skills and that mindfulness crap.’

  Maybe. Horton would like to know. He entered his office and checked his messages and emails. He answered those that were urgent or had been waiting a while for an answer, made a few calls and then ran through the reports. There was still nothing from the Clements’ neighbours. He checked the cases that had come in over the last few days – some burglaries, an assault – but his attention was distracted by the sound of a car pulling into the car park. Looking out of the window, he saw Gaye climb out of her Mini. Returning to CID, he hastily gathered up Walters and Cantelli and, without waiting to be invited, made for the incident suite, eager to know the results of the autopsy on Clements.