Ten Guilty Men (A DCI Morton Crime Novel Book 3) (18 page)

‘A white man?’ Kal’s nostrils flared. ‘What difference does race make?’

‘None if you’re British. But my job is to protect British working class stock. I want to close the borders, reduce taxes and start making things here. We need to wean ourselves off the teat of cheap imported tat and get back to basics. My plan is simple: get Britain working and eradicate that which does not serve the greater good.’

Ayala looked on from the shadows, mesmerised. Hudson Brown genuinely believed in what he was spouting. It was time to put an end to the clown show, and take Kallum Fielder in for questioning. He waved his team forward and stepped in front of the camera.

Hudson Brown leapt to his feet. ‘What’s going on here?’ he demanded.

‘Sit down. We’re not here for you,’ Ayala said. He turned to Kal, ‘Stand up and put your hands behind your back. Kallum Fielder, you are under arrest on suspicion of forgery.’

Kal stood slowly. He had known they were coming, and he was ready for it. He stared straight into the nearest camera, unblinking, as if the entire arrest were simply a scene in a daytime drama. ‘Forgery? There must be some mistake.’

‘No mistake, Mr Fielder.’

Chapter 34: The President of the United States of America

Thursday April 17th – 10:00

The same interrogation suite, the same lawyer. Upon arrival at New Scotland Yard, Kal had begun yelling for a lawyer. Not just any lawyer, but Elliot Morgan-Bryant of Cutler & Kass. Again. The same pie-in-the-sky-priced lawyer that represented Aleksander Barchester mere days earlier. It was no coincidence.

‘Tell me again why you had Ellis DeLange’s will,’ Morton said. He had a copy of their last chat in front of him. The slightest slip, and Morton would nail Kal for the inconsistency.

‘Safety,’ Morgan-Bryant said. ‘My client has a high-grade commercial safe installed in his home, while Ellis did not. While Ellis was a social, trusting woman, she was well aware of the footfall at her parties and felt that her documents would be safer with her long-term partner than out in the open for anyone to inspect.’

‘Mr Morgan-Bryant, I would appreciate it if you let your client answer. Nice to see you again, by the way,’ Morton added with only the barest hint of sarcasm.

‘I will let my client answer when you ask a question that hasn’t already been covered extensively.’

‘Mr Fielder, did you forge this will?’

‘No comment.’

‘I’ll rephrase. This will is forged. You claim to have been looking after it all this time. Ignoring the accusation makes you look rather guilty. Did you print and or sign this will yourself?’

Morgan-Bryant touched his client lightly on the arm, a subtle signal to shut up. ‘What reasons do you have for questioning the document’s provenance?’

‘It’s damaged from excessive folding. It has had coffee spilled upon it.’

‘That isn’t in the slightest bit suspicious. My client has already stipulated that he received the document in that condition. If anything, it goes to show that the decision to store the will at his residence was the right decision.’

‘The witnesses then. You know them, do you not?’ Morton asked.

‘I do,’ Kal said.

‘Are you close?’

‘I know them socially, through Ellis. I’m not on first name terms with either.’

‘Names. Glad you brought that up. One of your witnesses is, according to the will, Lord Culloden. Doesn’t that strike you as odd?’

‘Why would it?’

‘It’s not his name.’

Kal’s lip twitched. ‘It’s what I’ve always known him as.’

‘Indeed. But I think Aleksander Barchester would probably sign a legal document in his real name, wouldn’t he?’

‘Kal, don’t answer that,’ Morgan Bryant said quickly. ‘What are you getting at, Mr Morton?’

‘I think your client signed the name.’

‘I did not,’ Kal said, but nobody in the room believed him. He stared at the table, afraid to make eye contact.

‘Perhaps we could simply call Mr Barchester to verify his signature if there is a problem here?’ Morgan-Bryant suggested.

‘You’re also Mr Barchester’s lawyer, aren’t you? Very convenient.’

‘Just what are you implying, Morton?’

‘It strikes me as awfully coincidental, that’s all.’

‘You’d best watch your tone, Mr Morton. I am a respected solicitor-advocate, and I will not stand for slander.’

The two stared in silence for a moment. Morton shrugged and took a sip of coffee. ‘Besides, it’s not just Mr Barchester. Did you forge Mr Malone’s signature?’

‘I did not,’ Kal said again. He continued to stare at the table.

‘Then perhaps you could explain why you visited Mr Malone in jail and tried to pass him money?’

‘That’s perfectly easy to explain. My client is friends with Mr Malone. He knows how tough it is in prison. If you don’t have money to buy basic necessities from the commissary then it is even tougher.’

‘It wasn’t a bribe then?’

‘No.’

‘You do seem to have an answer for everything. The third and final signature then. Did you forge that, Mr Fielder?’

‘No.’

‘You didn’t use an autopen machine to place Ellis’ signature at the bottom of the document?’

‘No.’

‘And you didn’t prepare the will on your laptop?’

‘Mr Morton, you seem to be badgering my client. For the record he has clearly said that he did not prepare, print, sign or otherwise have a hand in the creation of that document.’

‘Did you own a laptop?’

‘Yes.’

‘Did you dispose of that laptop recently?’

‘Yes,’ Kal mumbled.

‘To hide your forgery?’

‘Mr Morton. This is getting very repetitive. If you think you have any sort of evidence, put it on the table and we’ll explain it as best we can.’

‘Your client is in possession of a will prepared without the assistance of a lawyer. I believe that will was printed on your client’s old laptop, which he has now conveniently disposed of.’

‘She used hers.’ Kal said, his voice strengthening with renewed confidence.

‘Ellis used her laptop? The pink one studded with diamante stones?’

‘Yes.’

‘No, she didn’t. Our techs have examined that laptop thoroughly. The will was not prepared on her laptop.’

‘Does it matter where the will was prepared? It could have been printed at a library. You have nothing to connect that will and my client.’

‘Because he destroyed the evidence!’ Morton said.

‘You seem to be getting awfully close to slander again, Mr Morton.’

‘She didn’t make the will. It was signed by a convicted criminal and an impostor–’

Morgan-Bryant cut him off. ‘Civil matters. The validity of signatures is for a probate court to determine. I’m sure my client will be able to produce the witnesses in question to validate those signatures.’

‘–that you bribed, threatened or cajoled into hiding the truth. You hid key evidence.’

‘Eli wanted me to have the money. She hated Brianna, and Brianna hated her. I’m not a criminal, Detective Morton. I just want to honour my dead fiancée’s wishes.’ Kal spoke forcefully, his eyes shining. For the first time in the interview, Morton believed him.

‘Eli hated Brianna? Why?’

‘They fell out when her parents died. They were wealthy, very wealthy. Eli was just beginning to come into her own as an artist. She’d just moved to Richmond. We’d been together for about a year. This was before her fall from grace.’

‘You mean the drugs?’

‘Yes. That all started when her parents died. A coping mechanism, I suppose. It wasn’t her first time. She’d experimented as a teenager, but she wasn’t famous as a teenager. The pressure was immense. Much like now, we had journalists following our every move. The starlet photographer and Fulham’s star forward. We didn’t ask for the attention, but we got it.’

Becoming a footballer isn’t asking for attention?
Morton thought.

‘Her parents left behind a great deal of money,’ Kal said. ‘The girls had every privilege growing up. I suppose you need to if you want to pay for a drug habit.’

‘Didn’t Ellis fall out with her parents over that?’

‘Sort of. They weren’t best pleased, but really their disappointment was with her life choices. She turned down Cambridge for her art. It was risky. She could have had a comfortable professional life, but she gambled everything. It paid off. Her dad had begun to come to terms with it. They didn’t see each other much, but the relationship was on the mend.’

‘And then what happened?’

‘They died. That one fateful December night their car went into the river. That was five years ago.’

‘Wouldn’t that have brought the sisters together?’

‘Perhaps it should have, but for the money. Her parents left everything to charity. Their family home went to the National Trust. Their money went to charities for cats, dogs and the rainforest. All the girls got were their parents’ personal belongings. Eli got her mum’s jewellery. Brianna got the antiques.’

‘Was the jewellery worth much?’

‘Not really. Her parents were a real rags-to-riches story. Eli got the jewellery, which was sentimental. Brianna got more financially.’

‘But she still wasn’t happy with that?’

‘No. She wasn’t. She wanted more. She wanted to challenge the will. She even went to a lawyer about it. But Eli dissuaded her in the end. She agreed to help support Brianna financially.’

That would explain the monthly bank transfer.
‘And did she?’

‘For the most part. After the press ravaged her reputation, work became harder to come by. My football career ended when I busted up my foot. We’ve had a couple of lean years. Eli’s photography is all freelance. One month, we’ve got plenty. The next, it’s beans on toast for tea. But she always made sure Brianna was taken care of, even if that meant hardship for her.’

‘That’s an interesting story. It doesn’t verify who signed the will. Do you seriously want me to believe she signed a valid will using an autopen?’

The lawyer jumped straight in. ‘There’s nothing wrong with an autopen. If it’s good enough for the President of the United States to sign a bill into law using one, then it’s certainly good enough to authenticate how someone wishes to dispose of their assets. And again, Mr Morton, you’re straying into a civil dispute.’

‘Last time I checked, Kallum Fielder was not the President of the United States. Mr Fielder, this is only going to get worse for you. Right now you’ve forged a document. If you attempt to probate that will then you will be committing fraud. If you come clean now, I will ask the prosecutor to recommend leniency.’

‘No deal, Mr Morton. You don’t have anything on my client.’

‘I think a jury will see it differently. I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes, Mr Fielder. Famous men attract a lot of attention in prison. You might think you’re the big name on campus when you’re in the news, but inside you won’t feel so lucky.’

Morgan-Bryant shrugged. He’d heard it all a million times before. Prison was bad, yada yada yada. His client was far more emotional. His knuckles tightened into fists of rage, and he looked like he was ready to explode. But when he spoke, it was remarkably calm and not at all what Morton was expecting.

‘How dare you, Mr Morton. You sit there all high and mighty, but threaten me with prison. You insinuate that I’ll be raped by other inmates, as if it were just part of the punishment. You sicken me. If I were a woman, you’d never ever dare threaten me with rape as a way of coercing a confession. What makes it less abhorrent when it’s male-on-male? Do I deserve it? Is that what you’re saying? Our laws prohibit cruel and unusual punishment, don’t they? No, Mr Morton, I will not give you the satisfaction of crumbling under such a threat. Get out of my sight. I have nothing more to say.’

Morton sat there, stunned. Kallum Fielder was not your typical ex-footballer.

Chapter 35: Thicker Than Water

Thursday April 17th – 20:00

Sarah brought coffee in to Morton at eight o’clock. He blearily took the mug, then excavated a space for it in the pile of paperwork which had become a mountain atop the dining table.

‘Busy day?’ Sarah asked. She slipped an arm around her husband’s neck.

‘You have no idea.’ Morton continued shuffling through papers.

‘Tell me about it.’

‘My new Detective Sergeant, Mayberry, is causing me all kinds of headaches. The poor sod had a stroke a few years back and suffers from a speech disorder. He knows what he wants to say, but he ends up saying something different. I had him execute a search warrant this week. He called it a “findy-windy thing”. Can you imagine it? Defence counsel is making a mountain out of a molehill and have filed a formal complaint.’

‘Are you going to have to fire him?’

‘I wish it was that easy. He’s engaged to the Superintendent’s daughter. Mayberry would have to do something extreme to get himself fired. But if he does, you can bet your bottom dollar that it’ll be me that catches the flack for it.’

‘What are you going to do about it?’

‘I don’t know. Yet. Take a look at his personnel file.’ Morton handed over a thick file. It contained all of Mayberry’s police test scores.

Sarah rifled through the file. ‘Wow.’

‘100% in numerical reasoning. 100% in verbal reasoning too – before his stroke of course. He even aced the written exercises. He clearly isn’t stupid. But now he’s a liability.’

‘It sounds frustrating,’ Sarah said.

‘It is. Not nearly so frustrating as my case though. I’ve got a killer in the house at two o’clock in the morning, but every one of my suspects had either left well before then or has an alibi.’

‘Then someone has to have returned, or the alibis are fake.’

‘That was my thinking too,’ Morton said. ‘I’m so sorry. I’ve just realised we’ve been talking about work all evening. How was your day? Did you have lunch with Nick?’

‘I did indeed. Your son says hello, and can he borrow a grand for a post-graduation blowout?’

‘Hah. He wishes. What did you say?’ Morton asked.

‘I said he could have a grand towards doing a postgraduate degree instead.’

‘Our money is as safe as houses then.’