The TV Detective (30 page)

‘He started to tell you what to do?'

‘Yes.'

‘Bullied you?'

‘Yes.'

‘Him and Gordon?'

‘Yes.'

Dan swallowed hard, could scarcely breathe so tight was the tension in his chest.

‘And they – they forced you to do … they pushed you into what happened with Edward Bray?'

A slight hesitation, but then came the beautiful word.

‘Yes.'

Stead's eyes were shining now. Suzanne put her arm back around his shoulder.

‘Tell us all about it,' Dan said quietly. ‘Just tell us everything and we'll sort it all out.'

Chapter
Twenty-five

C
HRISTMAS EVE TRADITIONALLY COMES
with a knocking-off early, if indeed work has the temerity to intrude at all, a few warm-up drinks as a prelude to the day itself, and a general spirit of a time to relax. Dan did get to enjoy the drinks, eventually, but it became a day of very little relaxation and plenty of work, both in the service of his official job, and even more in what he had secretly come to think of as his second, secret, and far more exciting role.

In the early part of the morning alone they had solved the case, and in the greatest tradition of thrillers and dramas, the kind aired annually at this holiday point of the dying year, only just in time.

It was indeed Julia Francis in reception, burning with a stellar legal ferocity and harassing the desk sergeant ever more with each passing minute. She must, she insisted, be allowed to see her clients at this very instant, or she would bring thundering down upon the police all the mighty force of hundreds of years of statute, case law, natural justice, human rights, and whatever else she could spout from the vast gamut of legal gobbledygook.

Suzanne escorted her, first to see Andrew Hicks, then Gordon Clarke. By the time she got round to Jonathan Stead it was too late. He had been interviewed, and recorded, in sane possession of his faculties and happy to dispense with the services of a lawyer. In a catharsis of release he had described in detail exactly how Edward Bray had been killed, who by, how, why the plot began and how the murder was covered up.

Under stern advice from Francis, Clarke and Hicks would say nothing, apart from denying the allegations against them. But Adam was content that with the wealth of circumstantial evidence, the detail of the fibres on the shotgun and most importantly Stead's confession, they had plenty to secure a conviction.

The police also found a way to give themselves an early Christmas present. The parking around Charles Cross is limited to an hour. Julia Francis had far more work to do than that, and so with the assistance of an understanding traffic warden she was duly given a ticket.

It was petty, yes, Suzanne admitted, perhaps juvenile, or arguably even small minded, but it most enjoyable nonetheless. And no one disagreed.

Dan would have his story, it would make the lunchtime news, it would be an exclusive and it would be good, just as the insatiable Lizzie had demanded. Adam reckoned by the time all the allegations had been put to Hicks and Clarke and they had the chance to rebut them, as the law required, the time would be around noon. The two men would then be charged, just nicely in time for the half past one bulletin.

Sitting in the MIR, Adam raised a cup of coffee, and Suzanne and Dan joined in the sober toast.

All that remained was to go through Stead's statement and check that what he had said tallied with how they believed the murder had been committed.

Adam sipped at his drink, was about to speak, then turned to Dan.

‘It was a defining moment in the case. So, why don't you do it?'

‘What?'

‘Tell us how it was all done, and how you realised.'

‘Me? But I'm just a hack, and …'

‘It's your first time, so call it beginner's privilege,' Adam said levelly. ‘Just get on with it please.'

And so Dan did.

Edward Bray had been, if not the author of his own downfall, as the old saying goes, then certainly the instigator.

The story began when Clarke, Hicks and Stead met at court on one of the days given over to cases brought by Bray. They had their shared passion in hating the man, they supported each other and they got on well. The friendship continued and grew.

The mutual grudge against Bray had often been discussed and nurtured, even to the extent of the now infamous “Kill Edward Bray game”, as played out in the Red Lion.

‘But,' said Dan, ‘at that point, I think it was only fun. However sick, it was just drunken friends having their idea of a laugh. There was no real intention to harm Bray. But then however, things change. Eleanor Paget comes on the scene.'

At that point in Dan's narration, Adam did something strange. His face became thoughtful and he nodded slowly and said, ‘Yes, indeed she did,' but he wouldn't say anything else, instead prompted Dan to carry on with the story.

Gordon Clarke took a fancy to Paget, and it grew fast, into a fascination and then perhaps even an obsession. There were the endless flowers and that ill fated date, but most importantly in the chain of events was her time-honoured excuse for why she couldn't get involved in a relationship.

She was too busy with work, particularly dealing with, and fending off, the relentless demands of Edward Bray.

‘And that was the catalyst for all this,' Dan explained. ‘First, Clarke becoming infatuated with Eleanor. Then, she says she can't reciprocate any feelings because of Bray. And now Clarke has another reason to hate the man. This time it's fresh and new and all the more powerful for that, enough to shift his thoughts from fantasy to fact. He starts to actively plot how to get rid of Bray.

‘And so the plan grows. Clarke does some research on methods of killing and the best ways to evade detection, probably using an internet café so there are no traces left on his own computer. He finds that a shotgun is good, as the pellets can't be definitely linked back to the weapon itself. Plus they're easy to get hold of. He might have bought it second hand, maybe even stolen it, but he gets himself one, and in such a way that there's no link back to him.'

Dan paused, thought his way through the case. ‘Now I'm on less firm ground, as I don't think we can prove this, but it's my guess at what happened anyway.'

‘Go on,' Suzanne said. ‘You're doing fine so far. We'll pick you up if you get too creative, don't worry.'

So Dan went back to his story.

‘Gordon Clarke probably spent a great deal of time trying to work out how he could kill Bray, but still have an alibi which would free him from suspicion. He would know that his past, his threats against the man, the website he set up to attack Bray, all that would soon have the police knocking at the door. But he couldn't find a way to distance himself sufficiently from the crime. The only possible method was to have an accomplice, to enter into a conspiracy. He needs someone to help him. And he realises in fact he has two possible candidates, Andrew Hicks and Jon Stead. So, he comes up with a plan which includes them both.

‘They know enough about Bray's way of working and the property business to set a trap. They lure him to the lay-by with that appointment and talk of a lucrative parcel of land nearby. They know too that Bray's always punctual, so they can set their timings to give them all decent alibis.

‘Clarke's the ringleader, and he's going to do the actual killing, so he needs the strongest alibi of all. Hence his visit to Bristol. He was on the train coming back to Plymouth when Bray was murdered, the mobile phone trace puts him there. We've got CCTV of someone who looks like him going into the station, his cashcard being used in Bristol, texts to his secretary containing information only he could know. It's not conclusive, but it's not far off. Except – except that he wasn't in Bristol. He was in Plymouth all day, and then, later, at the lay-by, waiting for Bray. Which raises the big question. How could that possibly be?'

Dan paused, his mind flying through what had happened. It was a remarkable story. He wondered how much of it he would be able to report. The entire tale would probably only come out at the trial. But it would be well worth waiting for.

‘This is what they did,' he said, finally. ‘They switched identities, to give them alibis. Clarke didn't go to Bristol. Hicks did. The two men have similar builds and they used that. Hicks took Clarke's coat and umbrella and went to the station. He was carrying Clarke's phone, so the location trace would check out. They knew we'd look at that. In Bristol, he used Clarke's card to get some cash – he'd been given the security number. And as for the texts to Clarke's secretary, I'm guessing Hicks and Clarke had both got themselves another untraceable pay as you go mobile. When Hicks needs to know what to put in a message, he texts Clarke to find out – he wouldn't want to risk speaking on the train. The answer comes back and he sends it off, using Clarke's own phone. To the secretary it would have seemed just like Clarke answering.'

Adam nodded. ‘Go on,' he said. ‘And the other details?'

‘Clarke's car was parked up by the river. I'm guessing he'd got some false plates to confuse the number plate recognition system. As you said, that's easy to do, and it fits with the pattern of events. This was a well-planned crime. The gun is in the boot, hence the fibres we found. Clarke spends the day fishing with Stead, or at least pretending to. When it's time to go, they pop into the shop and deliberately drop that bottle of milk, then make a fuss about helping to clean up so the woman will remember them. They know the CCTV's not working. I suspect they'd already researched that, maybe asking her some throwaway question about it weeks ago, so she won't remember when we investigate. She's short sighted, and they're in disguise, anyway. It's raining and they've got big coats on with their hoods up. She gives the two men their alibis, as they know we'll think it's Hicks and Stead and from there they can't get to the lay-by in time to carry out the killing as they don't have a car. But in fact it's not Hicks, it's Clarke. Into his car he gets, off to the lay-by he goes, and …'

Dan's voice tailed off.

‘A shot through the heart for anger, revenge and passion, and a kick in the face for good measure,' Suzanne said quietly

There was a silence as the ghost of Edward Bray drifted through the room.

‘The missed appointment,' Adam said, at last. ‘Tell us about that, the one from the week before, when they first planned to kill Bray. As we always thought, it did turn out to be the key to the case.'

Dan sipped at his coffee. ‘Indeed it was. And here's the golden reason the appointment was cancelled. We overcomplicated that, looking for some personal reason in our suspects' lives why they might be forced to put off a meeting. In fact it was far simpler. It was all down to the bane of the British – the weather. The week before, the forecast was for a fine day, and that's exactly how it turned out. I remember it well, it was remarkably mild for December. I took Rutherford for a walk on the beach that evening, it was so warm. And, of course, for the disguises of Hicks wearing Clarke's raincoat and sheltering under his umbrella, and Clarke wearing the big fisherman's coveralls, the weather had to be nasty. So when they saw the fine forecast they postponed the killing. Even murderers can be let down by the weather, it seems.'

The attempt at humour raised no smiles. It wasn't that kind of a morning.

‘You know,' Dan went on, ‘it was thanks to Rutherford I realised what had gone on. My little moment in the park when I mistook that woman for a neighbour. That was when I suddenly saw the one very obvious advantage that bad weather gives you in terms of dressing for it. It's a handy excuse for a good disguise.'

‘And all that you've said about the men fits in with what we know about our conspirators,' Suzanne observed. ‘Clarke takes the leading role with the murder. Hicks does the next most tricky bit by going to Bristol. Stead more or less tags along, carried by the other two.'

‘He does do his bit though,' Adam said. ‘It was he who took Hicks' mobile phone and dropped it off at his house, under a bin in the back yard as it happens, before going home himself. That was an important detail, to make sure their two mobile traces would lead back to their houses. And he made the call, the muffled one, to tell us about the body. To make sure we knew exactly what time the killing happened, so their alibis all worked out.'

In his earlier interview, Stead had pleaded that he shouldn't be charged with conspiracy to murder. He said Clarke and Hicks were adamant the idea was to injure Bray, not kill him, just to teach him a lesson. He would never have gone along with a murder plan he said, was shocked when he heard Bray was dead. But by then he was too bound up in the plot to do anything about it.

Adam looked dubious. He asked whether Stead had any evidence to support that and was pointed to the call he made to report Bray's body in the lay-by. He had clearly said “body”, as opposed to dead body.

Adam nodded, clicked his tongue, but said a matter like that would have to be for a jury to decide.

Hicks had been in tears when they left him, pleading to be allowed to see his wife and son. That, Dan reflected, would be a reunion he would never want to witness.

‘So, that's it then,' he said slowly. ‘Case closed.'

Adam walked over to the felt boards, ran a hand along the line of faces looking out there. He stopped at Eleanor Paget, clear eyes and inscrutable expression, and tapped the picture.

‘Not quite,' he replied. ‘I think there might be one more loose end to tie up. Or if not tie, then at least give it a little tug to let it know we're well aware of it.'

Dan dashed back to the studios to cut a story for the lunchtime news. A man had been charged with murdering Edward Bray, he reported, two more with conspiracy to murder. He named all three and gave a little information about them, that they had known Bray for several years and had business dealings and disagreements with him, but couldn't go into more detail.

The laws of contempt in Britain are both strong and fierce, designed to prevent any possibility of prejudicing a trial, and with a lawyer like Julia Francis on the men's side, caution was advisable. She would be looking for any excuse to have the charges against them dismissed, and Dan didn't want to provide her with the amusing irony of helping to crack the case, then wrecking the trial.

Still, it was a fine splash and pushed Lizzie as close as she came to contentment and a hint of festive cheer.