The Scent of Death--A Sukey Reyholds British police procedural (27 page)

‘We won't know ourselves until we find it,' Mike pointed out between swigs from his beer mug. ‘I'm surprised DCI Leach doesn't decide to downgrade the case. He probably would if anything big cropped up, but things have been surprisingly quiet lately.'

The conversation turned to other topics until they had finished their lunch. ‘OK Sarge,' said Mike, ‘I take it you want us to carry on with crawling round?'

‘No, I thought you'd like a change so I want you to help Sukey and me sort through the rubbish. We've already done the messy stuff, but there's loads of recyclables; bottles, plastics, cans and so on and black bags full of other dry waste.'

They set about their respective tasks without a great deal of optimism, but half an hour later Sukey made a discovery. While delving into the contents of a container full of newspapers, catalogues and junk mail, she found a pair of white cotton gloves. ‘I think I've got something here,' she said as she held them up. ‘These aren't women's gloves, like the sort you buy in a shop to wear with a summer outfit. In any case, if a guest had left them in her room they'd have been handed in as lost property.'

‘So what do you reckon?' asked Vicky. ‘They look to me like the ones waiters wear when they're serving.'

‘I don't remember seeing any of the waiters here wearing gloves,' said Mike.

‘That's true,' said Sukey, ‘they're more the sort of thing they wear at formal dinners with a tux and a black tie. We could find out whether there's been an event like that here recently.'

‘So what if there has?' said Tim. ‘What possible connection could there be with our case?'

‘You're forgetting something; Reg Law was manually strangled and Doc Handley was pretty sure his killer was wearing gloves. If he wore these he's probably smart enough to know about DNA and so forth so he'd want to get rid of them as quickly as possible. The obvious thing to do was drop them in one of the rubbish bins and tip in some stuff on top of them. In the normal course of events the bin would have been emptied the week after the murder, but thanks to the strike that didn't happen.'

‘You may well be right,' said Vicky. ‘We'll definitely get forensics on to these, but first I'm going to find out if anyone recognizes them and can suggest who might have worn them and when.'

‘Does that mean we can give up sorting through the rest of this stuff?' asked Tim hopefully.

‘Sorry guys, I'm afraid not. You carry on searching while I go and check on the gloves.' She went to reception and showed them to Maxine. ‘Do you recognize these?' she asked.

‘They're just an ordinary pair of waiter's serving gloves,' said the receptionist after a quick glance. ‘Where did you find them?'

‘They were in one of the rubbish bins. I don't remember seeing any of your waiters wearing white gloves, though.'

‘They don't normally, but a couple of weeks ago we laid on a dinner for a consortium of business people; it was a formal occasion so all our waiters were formally dressed. We hired the outfits, but as far as I know everything went back. I suppose that pair must have got overlooked.'

‘When was this formal dinner?'

‘I think it was the week before last; I'll just check.' Maxine consulted the register. ‘Yes, here we are; it was on the Wednesday, a couple of days before Mr Freeman and his party arrived. Is it important?'

‘It might be. Do you know which waiters were on duty that evening?'

‘I can find out for you. Mrs Chapman will know.'

‘Thank you.' Vicky went outside and called Rathbone.

‘That's certainly an odd place to find those sort of gloves,' he said, ‘but the most likely explanation is that one of the waiters didn't remember to hand them in, nobody noticed a pair was missing before the rest of the stuff went back, so he just ditched them.'

‘Do you think it's worth checking them for DNA, Guv?'

‘I suppose we'd better.' Rathbone's tone was dismissive. ‘But I think we might be on to something a lot more promising. I called the techies; one of their boys was already here checking a mobile so I asked him if he could have a quick look at Rainbird's laptop. He got into it in no time, and there's some very interesting stuff in it. Tell Sukey to come back here right away; she might as well bring the gloves with her and I'll hand them over to forensics for the usual checks.'

‘What do you want the rest of us to do, Guv?'

‘Just keep on with the search.'

When Sukey entered Rathbone's office she found him with a pen in one hand and a diary at his elbow while apparently studying the open laptop.

‘Come and look at this lot,' he said, his voice and expression positively gleeful. She sat beside him and looked at the screen. The file was named Freeman and listed every detail of the man's personal history, including his date of birth, his parentage, his marriage and divorce, education and qualifications. The latter consisted of nothing more significant than the results of his secondary school and sixth form college examinations and a degree course in music that he didn't finish. ‘There's a list of various jobs, none particularly significant, and he carried on with his music studies in his spare time. There's no doubt he gained a very extensive musical knowledge, which eventually led to his appointment at Branwell College.'

‘Rainbird didn't do things by halves, did he?' said Sukey. ‘I wonder what made him make this check in the first place. Maybe something Freeman let slip roused his curiosity. Or maybe he just has an abnormally curious nature. We've already agreed that there was something odd about him – a personality problem perhaps.'

‘He certainly seems to have taken a more than usual interest in a lot of the people he associates with. There's a lot of stuff about various people; even his cleaning lady gets a mention. “A pretty Polish lady who pretends not to understand if I point out something she's missed”. He makes a comment about his neighbour, the old busybody you spoke to. He's written, “If I enjoyed a chat it wouldn't be with her”. Then there are titbits about the girls in his office that he picked up while listening to their gossip.'

‘This is fascinating stuff, Guv, but I don't see how it helps us in our search for the Dallington Manor killer.'

‘Aha, I've saved the best till last.' With a gesture that made Sukey think of a conjuror producing a pack of cards from the air, he called up a file named Luke Grayson. ‘Have a look at that while I get a refill, but don't spend much time on the early stuff; the last couple of pages are where it gets interesting. Do you fancy a coffee?' he added, somewhat to her surprise.

‘Thanks, Guv, that'd be great.' She scrolled down the screen and felt her pulses tingle with excitement as intimate details of Grayson's private life emerged. She soon learned that Mrs Franks was not his first lover. Before she came on the scene he was having an affair with a lady member of the golf club which came to an end when she suffered a stroke and died two years after the relationship started. ‘There's something odd here, Guv,' she said when Rathbone returned to his seat. ‘Yvette Daniels, the woman he'd been having an affair with for a couple of years, died just over five years ago, but Mrs Franks told me her affair with Grayson started about three years ago, soon after her husband died.'

‘I thought you'd pick up on that,' said Rathbone. ‘There's no mention here of another affair before the one with Franks, and as he seems to be something of a Casanova I doubt if he'd wait a couple of years before finding another floozie. Geoffrey Franks died about the same time as Mrs Daniels. The question is, was it just a slip of the tongue on Cynthia Franks' part when she was in a state of considerable distress, or was it a deliberate lie? If it was a lie, we need to know the reason; in any case it not only throws doubt on Grayson's alibi but also, if he's aware of the existence of this dossier, gives him a powerful motive for murder.'

‘For murdering Rainbird perhaps, Guv, but we've been working on the assumption that Rainbird and Law were killed by the same person. Law was killed on the Sunday – but of course, that was the day Grayson was here to identify his brother's body.'

‘So he knew somehow that Law was about to sell his story and had to kill him as well. Maybe you're right about the gloves, Sukey; if they have Grayson's DNA in them the case is as good as in the bag. By the way, when did Rainbird start his present job?'

‘According to Mr Ashman, Guv, Rainbird started working for his firm about five years ago; it's obvious from these entries that it didn't take him long to twig that Grayson was up to no good. In addition to his extreme curiosity, he must also have exceptional powers of observation.'

‘Plus a very keen ear, which would enable him to listen into private conversations in the office – and possibly account for his interest in music. It's time we had a further word with Grayson and his lady love.'

‘There's one thing that puzzles me,' said Sukey. ‘Barbara Baker, one of the girls in Grayson's office who had a private word with us after we'd interviewed him, didn't mention anything suggesting that Grayson had been leaving the straight and narrow, but they seemed to think it more than likely that Rainbird had some sort of love life. We know now that they were right, but there's no hint of anything personal in this.'

‘He obviously doesn't feel the need to keep a record of his own love life,' said Rathbone.

‘Let's hope the diary I found in his flat – if it is a diary – will give us a lead, Guv.'

‘I suppose it might be useful if we could identify this mystery woman, but first things first. I'll report this to DCI Leach right away; my guess is he'll tell us to pick up Grayson and the Franks woman and bring them here for interview.'

‘T
he missing baby was found safe and well so I've brought DC Osborne back into the Dallington Manor case,' Rathbone told Sukey on his return from Leach's office. ‘My instructions are to leave Vicky and Tim to carry on with the search; Tim and Penny will interview Cynthia Franks while you and I tackle Grayson. I take it you have Franks' address.'

‘Yes, Guv. She lives in Isleworth, not far from Grayson but in a slightly less prestigious part.'

‘Within easy reach of London then; good, we can all travel most of the way together. I don't imagine you're keen to drive into the city centre and in any case I'd prefer to go by train. Once we get there we'll be going in separate directions. Work out some details and times and get back to me.'

‘Will do, Guv.' She logged on to the Internet, retrieved the information she needed and called him back. ‘It's quite straightforward; we get a train from Bristol Parkway to Waterloo; from there you and I get the tube to St Paul's and Penny and Tim go by British Rail to Isleworth. I've no idea how far her house is from the station but if it's a long way they can probably get a taxi.'

‘I'm not authorizing any taxi fares,' said Rathbone. ‘They can go by bus, and if there isn't a bus they can walk from the station; the exercise will do them good. And there'll be no advance phone calls to make appointments. We'll get there at a time that suits us and catch the blighters with their pants down.' After making a few calculations, he decided that they should time their arrival so as to reach their respective destinations in the middle of the afternoon. ‘If my reckoning is correct,' he continued, ‘Grayson will have had lunch but will probably plan to leave early; on the other hand, if he was too shaken to face the office after having his cover blown he'll have called in sick and be skulking at home, or he'll have flown to the arms of his lady love for solace.'

‘In which case he'll be there when Tim and Penny ring her doorbell,' said Sukey.

‘I've thought of that; I'll tell them to be sure their phones are charged up and to call me immediately if he is.'

By three o'clock they were at Waterloo Station. ‘Good hunting,' said Rathbone before Tim and Penny went to buy their tickets. ‘Feel free to call me if there's anything significant to report or you need further instructions. Sukey, I hope you managed to find your way round the underground during your weekend here.'

‘I did use it a couple of times, Guv, so I've a good idea how it works. I've been checking the map and I think I can manage to get us to St Paul's station.'

‘Then lead on. By the way, I'll leave it to you to take over the questions when we come to the subject of his religious beliefs; you're more up in that sort of thing than I am.'

He sounds like a kid going to a football match,
thought Sukey as she led the way down the escalator leading to the platforms.
He's pinning a lot on this; I hope he's right, but I still think those gloves have something to do with the case and I don't see how Grayson could have got hold of them. In any case, if he really did go to Dallington Manor with the express intention of throttling Rainbird with his bare hands, surely he'd have had the nous to take his own gloves
.

The question was still hovering at the back of her mind as they went up to the desk, where the receptionist, whose name Sukey recalled was June, was speaking on the phone. The recognition was evidently mutual; her face registered a slight unease at their approach; she said something in a low voice and put the phone down before saying in a tone that was intended to sound normal and relaxed but was in fact neither. ‘Good afternoon, Ms Reynolds! What brings you here again?'

‘We want to see Mr Luke Grayson.' Rathbone held up his ID and June's eyes widened as she studied it.

‘I'll tell him you're here, Inspector,' she said hastily. She pressed buttons and said, ‘Mr Grayson, Detective Inspector Rathbone and Detective Constable Reynolds are here to see you.' She held the receiver a short distance from her ear as a series of indignant squawks came from it. She listened for a few moments before saying, ‘Very well, Mr Grayson,' and cradled the instrument. ‘He says it's extremely inconvenient but he can spare you a few minutes. If you take the lift to the tenth floor he'll meet you there. Oh, just a moment, please.' She held out two visitor badges. ‘Please take one of these and sign in.'