Joint Enterprise (The Romney and Marsh Files Book 3) (11 page)

‘Yeah.’

‘Good. That way, if you really have done nothing wrong, I can have a word with your boss that it was all a big mistake. You keep your job. Sound fair?’

‘Yeah.’

Romney liked the way things were going. If only everyone who had to help the police with their enquiries had such leverage to scare them into cooperation. ‘There were five of you, right?’

‘Yeah.’

A thought occurred to Romney. ‘Any of them work up here?’

Andrews drew a deep breath. ‘Yes. Colin. Colin Mattock. He works at the double-glazing place over there.’ Andrews pointed across the way.

‘Any of the others?’

‘No. Just him.’

‘Right then. Let’s go and get him too, shall we?’ said a satisfied sounding Romney to his uniformed driver.

*

Having been advised of developments, Marsh was already back at the station by the time Romney returned with his pair of young suspects. He left them to be signed in, locked up and to stew while he organised the rounding up of the other three. James Andrews had proved most co-operative so far. He had given up the names of his confederates without further coercion and even added where they could all be found. Romney was thinking of going in search of lunch when he was called to a phone.

‘Inspector, it’s Gordon Glazier from
Everything Army
.’

‘What can I do for you, Mr Glazier?’

‘It’s more what I can do for the police, Inspector,’ said Glazier. ‘Those uniforms we were discussing this morning. They’ve just been dropped off.’

*

Grimes was back at his desk.

‘How did it go at the hospital?’ said Romney.

‘Routine, gov.’

‘Only they said downstairs you had insisted on being the one to go and interview the victim. Not like you – insisting you be allowed to do some work. Something I should know?’

Grimes looked a little affronted, which Romney took to be an indication of his guilt. ‘I offered, gov, that’s all.’ Romney raised his eyebrows and waited for the rest. ‘The victim was someone on the radio the other day. A local celebrity.’

‘Name?’

‘Edy Vitriol. He’s just written a book that’s proving a bit controversial. He was on the radio.’

‘So you said. Written a book about what?’ As a book lover, Romney was suddenly more than half-interested.

‘Women as prostitutes.’

‘Is there any other kind?’ said Romney, a little too quickly
and a little too loudly.

‘Sorry, gov?’

‘Never mind. What happened to him, then?’

‘Answered his front door last night and was stabbed.’

‘Where?’

‘On the doorstep, gov. I just said.’

‘No. Where was he stabbed in his body?’ Grimes was proving particularly hard work.

‘Oh. Stomach. He was very lucky, apparently. An inch either way and it could have proved fatal.’

‘Did he know his assailant?’

Grimes shook his head. ‘Nothing at all, gov. Said it was too dark. He couldn’t even tell whether it was a man or a woman.’

Romney lost interest. He had enough to concern himself with. ‘Got a job for you.’

With Grimes on his way to collect the uniforms, Romney went in search of a late lunch.

***

6

‘All present and correct, sir,’ said Marsh. She stood in Romney’s
office doorway clutching a couple of files to her chest. It was early evening and she was glad she had nothing planned for the night because she felt sure she was going to be here a while yet. It had taken a few hours to round them all up. While James Andrews and Colin Mattock had been conveniently located and available, Mickey Price – the courier – had been half-way to Hereford by the time his work had got hold of him and told him to turn round and head back; Gavin Ireland had been on the outward leg of a cross-channel ferry journey in his capacity as bar-steward and Jez Ray – unemployed – had just been out.

Romney was sitting feeling moderately pleased with himself, despite the delay, and refusing to consider, for the time being at least, that one of the five young men locked up downstairs was not responsible for the death of the Frenchman. The alternative just didn’t bear thinking about.

‘Good. Come in. Sit down.’ Marsh settled herself. ‘Grimes dropped the uniforms off at forensics. With any luck they might provide us with the physical evidence we need that one of this lot has blood on his hands. But which one? If we confront them all and they all deny it things might start getting difficult for us.’

‘What are you thinking, sir?’

‘Well, there are five of them and five uniforms all the same. If they’ve all been stuffed in a bag together then even if we do get one covered in French claret, how’re we going to categorically tie it to one of our suspects? Any half-decent legal counsel will argue that because they’ve been rubbing up against each other, incriminating hairs and fibres could have contaminated one from another and so they’ll all have a get out of gaol card. Nothing conclusive, or beyond reasonable doubt on an individual level. With the CPS the way it is these days – tighter than a sheep’s arse down at Hugo Crawford’s farm – it would never even get to court. I suppose then we’d have to consider a charge of Joint Enterprise, although, I really don’t want to even think about that bureaucratic headache at the moment.’

Although the
farm analogy didn’t sit well with Marsh, she had to agree. ‘True. So we need to find a motive. Or perhaps one of them will just own up to it.’

Romney gave her a dubious look. ‘And perhaps Grimes will return to us this evening with an armful of recovered celluloid.’

‘You’ve set Grimes on the missing film, sir?’ said Marsh, not making much of a fist of concealing her incredulity.

‘Had to. Crayfish minor rattles his uncle’s cage; the CC lights a fire under our dear leader and he, in turn, pesters me to make it a priority. But I can’t personally, of course, because I have to prioritise and last time I looked murder still comes above simple theft.’

‘So you set Grimes on it?’

‘You’re repeating yourself, Sergeant,’ said Romney, but there was a smile playing about the corners of his mouth. ‘Like I said, I had to.’ He spread his hands in front of him in a Faginesque gesture. ‘I had
no choice. I had to assure the super that as you and I were tied up, I was committing my best and most experienced officer to it. I’ve given him Detective Constable Spicer.’

Laurel and Hardy is how Grimes and Spicer had been tagged by the station wit whenever they worked together. It had caught on. It wasn’t only a reference to their contrasting physical appearances. Mostly it was a reflection of their combined ineffectiveness as investigating police officers.

Was Romney trying not to laugh at his joke, at his cleverness? thought Marsh. She could understand why he might find it funny – with his grudge against the director – but it would probably end in tears. Unleashing Grimes and Spicer on Hugo Crawford and the case of the missing film promised as much success as asking the Hollywood legends to move a piano.

‘I could have done it, sir. I am more senior to Detective Constable Grimes.’

‘I know you are, Sergeant,’ said Romney, mustering some earnestness, ‘but as I said, we are investigating a murder and that takes precedence. I need you.’

Marsh sat there unconvinced, once again, of her
senior officer’s motives. In fact, she would have bet money that he was blatantly seeking to further upset Hugo Crawford. But there was nothing that she could do about it except disapprove and even that, she knew, she’d better keep to herself.

‘Anyway, if our interviews go smoothly we should be able to charge someone with the death of the soldier and then we can get back to the castle and renew old acquaintances. Which brings us back to our suspects. I take it none of them know exactly why we have brought them in?’

‘If one of them is responsible for the Frenchman’s death, he probably does, sir.’

‘Fair point. Are they all here voluntarily, or did we actually have to arrest any of them?’

‘All here in the spirit of community helpfulness, sir.’

‘You didn’t have to arrest any of them?’

‘No, sir.’

Romney looked disappointed. ‘That’s a shame. Might have been a useful indicator if one of them had been dragged in kicking and screaming. So we’ll have to be at our most cunning and observant, Sergeant, when we start questioning them individually. Unless of course one of them breaks down and confesses.’

‘Or they are all innocent and it was someone else.’

‘Don’t even go there.’

‘Anyway, no suggestion of an admission of guilt so far.’

‘No. I’m sure there isn’t.’ Romney was back to his professional self again. His little episode of levity behind him. ‘Any previous for any of them?’

‘Yes.’ Marsh opened one of the files on her lap. ‘Jez Ray, TDA as a minor. Nothing since reaching the age of consent. And James Andrews cautioned for possession as an adult.’

‘Really? I wonder if his boss knows. Might give us some extra leverage with him. Anything else?’

‘No, sir.’

Romney leant back in his chair and chewed his pen. The way the cheap biro cracked under his gnashing gave Marsh to believe that one day he was going to ruin a shirt
. ‘Neither Andrews nor Mattock gave me the impression their consciences were burdened with murder when we picked them up. Mind you they weren’t exactly full of beans either. What about the others?’

‘Price and Ireland were just unhappy. Jez Ray was drunk.’

‘He’s the unemployed one, right?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘I’m sure that the tax-payer would be comforted to know that he’s pissing his hard-earned benefit money up the wall. We’d better get down to them. Make a start with Andrews shall we? He hired the uniforms, after all.’

Romney stood and Marsh said, ‘Any luck with your memory, sir. Any of the names mean anything to you?’

‘Bugger all. I’m hoping that a face will ring a bell.’

*

James Andrews was led into the interview room looking as much angry as guilty. ‘Five hours I’ve been waiting to
“help the police with their enquiries”,
’ he said.

Romney wasn’t in the mood for any nonsense. ‘Would you rather we arrested and formally charged you? Under the terms of your caution for possession that might prove difficult for you.’ It wouldn’t because it couldn’t, but Romney was only interested in confusing and subduing the man quickly. ‘Mr Gaunt know about that, does he? Strikes me as the sort of employer not to have taken anyone on with a criminal record. Did you tell him?’

Andrews scowled. ‘What do you think? I haven’t got a criminal record anyway. It was a caution.’

‘It
was a criminal offence and it’s on record,’ said Romney, tapping the file. Andrews blew out his cheeks and said nothing more. ‘Now, just to be clear,’ continued Romney, ‘you’ve not been charged with anything yet.’ The only thing the police would be able to charge any of them with at present would be murder or manslaughter because no complaint for their gate-crashing of the event, or what they got up to when they were on the battlefield, had been officially made. This was probably because those in a position to lodge such complaints were not aware yet that they had been infiltrated by a gang of thugs bent on violence. It would be another card that Romney would keep up his sleeve to bargain with should the opportunity or necessity arise. ‘We’ll be recording throughout, however, in case our questioning needs to be referred to because of charges we might yet bring. Is that clear?’ Andrews nodded. ‘Good.’

The machinery was set
up and the formalities of identification and detail were submitted.

‘Now, James, do you know why you are here?’

Andrews looked at Romney with a frown. ‘No.’ He’d obviously decided to play mute and make them earn their money. Fair enough.

‘That’s not very helpful, James,’ chided Romney. ‘Helping the police with their enquiries means you volunteer information that might prove useful.’ Romney followed this with a big sigh. ‘Look, James, you know why you’re here and I know why you’re here. At the moment it isn’t serious for you. You might even get to be home for tea with your family. But only if you cooperate. I thought we understood each other. We have your four friends from yesterday’s fun and games in other cells waiting their turn to tell me why they’re here – to cooperate. Would you rather I walk out of here and leave you till last?’ Romney checked his watch. ‘Actually, if that happens, James, we won’t be speaking until the morning. I’ve got theatre tickets for tonight and I’m not missing it because you want to pla
y dumb. Last chance: where were you yesterday?’

Andrews was clearly not happy, but he also had little choice if he wanted to be released sooner rather than tomorrow. ‘At the castle.’

‘Which castle? Who with? Why?’ Romney tapped his watch like a teacher at a late pupil.

‘Dover castle. I was at Dover castle yesterday with four friends: Mickey Price, Colin Mattock, Jez Ray and Gavin Ireland. We went there because we love history and we wanted to be part of the battle scene. There was no other way for us to get in. We had to gate-crash.’ He kept a remarkably straight face and hardly blushed at all.