Joint Enterprise (The Romney and Marsh Files Book 3) (29 page)

‘Wait,’ said Romney, interrupting her, as a penny that had been stuck for several days finally dropped. ‘That’s where I saw Jez Ray. On the television. You remember when we ran across the group of them dressed as soldiers at the castle, I said there was something familiar about one of them, but I couldn’t place where from? It was from the television. It was a local news item. A laying of a wreath during the ceremony. Jez Ray read something. A eulogy I think it was. Why didn’t I see that when I interviewed him? And why
, when I asked him where I knew him from, didn’t he mention being on the telly? A lot of lads his age would.’ He huffed at his failing and said to Grimes, ‘Why is it likely Paul Henry would have attended?’ Now he was battling not to get carried away with his growing enthusiasm for the theory.

‘When Poisson and I were waiting for you in the pub the other evening
, he told me that he had another reason for visiting the castle that had nothing to do with his personal interest in the history of the place.’ Grimes went on to repeat what the Frenchman had told him of his reading of the names. ‘He asked me not to mention it to you, gov. He was a bit embarrassed about his reaction. He only told me because he was a bit tired and emotional and we got on. To be honest, I think it so moved him that he just wanted to talk to someone about it and I was there.’

Marsh took up the slack. ‘So, if Paul Henry and Jez Ray both attended the commemorative ceremony
, Jez Ray would have had plenty of opportunity to get a good look at a man who he believed was responsible for making him an orphan. A quick read through these letters suggests that Jez Ray’s life without his parents was not a happy one. He probably harboured a great resentment and had a lot of blame that he was looking to give vent to. The fact that he’d been writing hate mail to Edy Vitriol for so long would lend substance to that idea.’

‘You’re suggesting then that Jez Ray saw the face of the Frenchman coming at him across the battlefield and saw red. It wasn’t an accident?’

‘Yes. I think it was just one of life’s amazing coincidences. It would also explain why he’s been happy to plead to a lesser offence. We know what kind of light sentence he can expect for what he’s pleading to cooperatively and with apparent remorse.’

‘Are you also suggesting that Ray killed Vitriol?’ said Romney, with greater incredulity.

‘I’m suggesting it’s possible, sir. That’s all,’ said Marsh. ‘We’ll need to be quite sure about the time frames, but he wasn’t in custody for the attempt on Vitriol’s life or when Vitriol was fatally stabbed in the hospital. His whereabouts will have to be investigated. He turned up drunk, you’ll remember. Maybe he’d been celebrating or covering his tracks.’

Romney said, ‘And perhaps when the cold light of day shone down on what he’d done
at the castle, he realised that there was a good chance he’d be found out for the death of Henry. He must have worried that the film cameras would have captured him for a start. He wasn’t to know that they’d been stolen by a bunch of animal rights loonies. So he thinks he might as well go down for a sheep as a lamb and sees to Vitriol, a man who he has probably seen about Dover enough times to recognise and hate for his part in his life’s misfortune. And a man who he had threatened to kill. It would certainly explain him brazenly walking into the hospital and finishing the job he’d failed at the night before. He was probably expecting to get his collar felt any minute.’ Romney paced a little while the three exchanged looks. ‘It’s better than anything else we’ve got. It’s a bit fantastic in places, but it’s logical and possible. How are we going to prove it? We have no witnesses to either attack that was made on Vitriol.’

‘Why don’t we just ask him?’ said Grimes.

Romney looked like he might have been considering it.

‘We should organise a search of his home first,’ said Marsh. ‘He might not have been as careful as he should have been. It would be better to speak to him knowing something
rather than just guessing.’

Romney was nodding agreement. ‘Organise it for first thing in the morning
, would you?’ he said to Marsh. ‘But when you turn up at his address let them think you’re just routinely inspecting for the weapon he claimed to have dumped in the Channel. Don’t want to arouse his suspicions, yet.’ Then he smiled at them. ‘I like it a lot,’ he said. ‘Well done if you’re right.’

‘What if we’re not, gov?’ said Grimes. ‘It’s just an idea.’

‘Don’t spoil it,’ said Romney.

*

The house search proved a pointless exercise. Jez Ray lived in sheltered accommodation. He had a room that was his own space and shared facilities with the others who were unfortunate enough to be in need of the service funded by Kent County Council. There was no murder weapon. No bloodied clothing stuffed down the back of the chest of drawers. No pin board with pictures of the dead men defaced by red felt tip and no handy incriminating journal in which Jez Ray had written down how he’d killed the two men.

T
hey agreed that it probably wouldn’t be long before word of their visit got back to Jez Ray where he was on remand at Canterbury Prison. Understanding that the police needed to speak with Jez Ray, preferably before that eventuality, Romney phoned the prison and asked if Ray could be kept incommunicado until he had spoken to him. It was important. The authority he spoke to said he would see what he could do, but if Romney wanted to be sure he’d better get up there that morning. He took Marsh with him.

W
hen they were clear of Dover traffic and stuck in the flow of vehicles on the single-lane-in-each-direction highway that would take them to Canterbury, Marsh experienced a familiar feeling of dread and danger descend. To distract herself from her fears and anxiety as much as to explore what they were going to do next, she said, ‘How are you going to play it, sir?’

‘What would you do?’ said Romney.

She allowed herself a minute’s thought before saying, ‘Grimes was right, I suppose: all you can do is ask him straight. Maybe we’ve got some room to manoeuvre on the charges. Because we accepted his version of events, and because he has cooperated we’ve agreed to go with Involuntary Manslaughter. He’ll be out in two to four. I’m sure he’s feeling quite pleased with himself if he’s guilty of both killings, of course. If he doesn’t want to come clean about everything and we think that he’s guilty, we can always threaten to revise our position and push for charges of murder to be brought against him for the killing of Paul Henry.’

‘You think that the CPS would wear it?’ said Romney, doubtfully.

‘I would say that for now, we just have to get him to realise it as a real possibility and deal with the reality later. First, we just have to know if we’ve found our killer.’

In an uncharacteristic display of sympathy for someone on the wrong side of the law
, Romney said, ‘It can’t have been easy for him, can it? I don’t know where he’s spent his life, but if it was in an institution I can understand why maybe he’s done what he’s done. You know, it seems a sad and cruel irony to me that Edy Vitriol, who was responsible for all those deaths, including the deaths of Ray’s parents, was able to milk the NHS of thousands and thousands of pounds to help deal with his issues that arose from that night, while someone who lost everything and his future has probably had no mental help for it at all.’

‘To be fair though, sir, Jez Ray wouldn’t have known much about it as a baby would he?’

‘No, but he has certainly had time to understand and reflect.’

Marsh’s mobile trilled. She answered. On becoming aware of the caller’s identity she adopted a dominating
, no nonsense tone, which caused Romney to glance in her direction. It was not a side of her that he witnessed very often, but he liked the fact she had it to give and was not afraid to use it. As a police detective one needed the ability to be many different people to many different people and the more versatile and competent one was the better a copper one had the potential to be.

‘That was my new best friend up at the castle,’ she said.

‘Ramsden?’

‘Yes.’

‘If that’s how you talk to your friends, I’ll try and keep on the right side of you.’

‘Crawford’s had a demand.’

‘Has he now? Go on then. What is it?’

Before she could answer Romney dropped a gear, peered around the huge, view-obscuring rear of the lorry in front and depressed the accelerator. No mirror. No signal. The manoeuvre he was obviously intent on brought mixed feelings for Marsh. On the one hand
, if he managed it without incident, they would be free of the risk of certain death from decapitation if the vehicle in front – which Romney was currently tailgating so closely that Marsh could see faults in the paintwork of the chassis – were to brake suddenly. On the other hand, and from her position of blindness to any approaching vehicles, she knew from experience that Romney overtook as though he believed he was shielded from collision by some divine force-field of invincibility. And in any case, he’d only end up going as fast as he could to catch the next vehicle and she’d have to go through it all again. She checked her seatbelt once more and prepared to bring her bag up to cover her face if their luck had finally run out.

Romney was quite possibly one of the worst drivers Marsh ever had the misfortune to ride with. It wasn’t that he couldn’t manage the vehicle’s controls; it wasn’t that he had poor spatial awareness; it wasn’t that the dynamics of the physics of moving transport and their implications for him as a pilot of a tonne of metal, plastic
, glass and rubber loaded with highly inflammable explosive fluids seemed beyond his comprehension. It was his arrogance, his impatience, his risk-taking and his lack of regard for the rights and entitlements of other people who also paid through the nose for the privilege to use the country’s roads. She would have preferred to drive them to their destination today, but by the time she was down in the car park he was already behind the wheel on his little driving cushion.

She waited until they were past and she had herself back under control before she continued. ‘Ramsden said that he got it last nigh
t and now he’s talking about it but swearing people to secrecy. He had an anonymous phone call and a money demand.’

‘Did he say how much?’

‘Ten thousand pounds.’

Romney let out a little laugh. ‘And? Is he going to pay?’

‘Apparently, he thinks he can negotiate them down.’

‘So he doesn’t intend consulting us?’

‘That’s the impression I just got.’

With a sinking feeling of inevitability they came up behind yet another slow moving inter-continental TIR lorry. This one had Portuguese number plates.

‘This is something that really pisses me off about the UK,’ said Romney. ‘We’re all getting shafted by road tax and petrol prices to pay for the upkeep on our highways and every day hundreds of these articulated leviathans just roll off the ferries to ruin them without having to pay a penny. And we go over there and it’s all toll-roads and extortion if you’re a foreigner.’

He swung out and then immediately back in just in time to avoid a head-on collision with a blur of red and glass. The Doppler wailing of the rebuke by the oncoming driver hung briefly in the air.

‘That idiot’s going too fast,’ said Romney. Marsh bit her tongue. ‘Well, if Crayfish minor doesn’t want to involve us, there really is little we can do, is there?’

‘I suppose not,’ said Marsh, relaxing slightly as the turning to Canterbury prison hove into view and Romney eased off the accelerator.

*

‘Hello, Jez,’ said Romney. ‘How are they treating you in here?’

‘Not bad. Being on remand I get to wear my own clothes. The other inmates keep telling me that if I’m going to do a stretch, I should drag out the remand as long as I can ‘cos it comes off the time I’ll serve and it’s not as bad as proper porridge.’

‘They’re right. Enjoy it while you can.’ Romney was bearing no outward hostility towards the young man who they believed had pulled the wool over their eyes. ‘The way it stands at the moment you’re not going to lose too much of your yo
ung life by pleading guilty to Involuntary Manslaughter. You could be back out enjoying things in a couple of years.’ Jez Ray nodded, but kept any confidence he might be feeling off his face. There was, Marsh noticed, nothing cocky about him. ‘If, indeed, the charge remains Involuntary Manslaughter.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, if we were to reconsider our position in the light of new evidence and felt moved to pursue a conviction for pre-meditated murder and we were successful, then you will be considerably older and considerably more damaged as an individual by the time you ever got a chance to apply for parole.’

‘Why are you talking like that? I thought that we had it sorted. We agreed all this.’ A hint of panic had crept into Ray’s eyes and voice.

‘New evidence, Jez. You want to hear it?’ Jez Ray indicated he would. ‘Before I tell you what you already know, Jez, I want to say something. And I want you to know that I mean it. And then I’m going to make you a serious and genuine offer. It’s not some ploy or a trick. In here, now, it’s just us. There is no recording device. Nothing you say to us would be admissible anywhere. We’re here to give you the opportunity to make a clean breast of things, clear your conscience, because only then will you be able to properly begin to heal your mind and deal with your demons.’