Waves of Murder (7 page)

“No,” Novak said, “I questioned her on the ship, if he murdered Mrs Smithson he did it alone. The girl was never present in the bar, nightclub or casino, according to witnesses.”

When Jon got back to the hotel, Lorna was drunk and had been crying, the mini-bar had been well used. “Can we go home?” she slurred.

“Yes,” Jon said,” now we need to sleep.” At 8am they awoke, Lorna had a hangover, but was still adamant that they left immediately. Jon agreed and said, “We’ll pack, get some coffee and go to JFK to see if we can get a flight later today. BA is the best bet,” he suggested. Jon and Lorna checked out, he retrieved the cash and the remaining diamonds.

Coveniently, there was a cab rank just outside the main entrance of the hotel, a cabby at the front got out of his cab when he saw the luggage, and opened the large boot of the yellow checker, “Where to?” he asked in a Brooklyn, gravelled accent.

“JFK, please, BA terminal,” replied Jon, ‘$50 fixed fare’ he was told. “Fine,” said Jon, “ let’s go.” They were soon across the Brooklyn Bridge and into Queens and JFK airport. The luggage unloaded, Jon gave the driver an extra $10.

“Have a good flight, and thanks,” came the gutteral voice.

At the desk of BA they were booked in for the night flight to Heathrow, leaving at 7.30 pm. Jon paid for an upgrade, being over 6ft tall he wanted the leg room, the tourist class seats were too cramped. It was only when they were in their seats that Jon gave a sigh of relief. The six and a half hour flight went pleasantly, dinner was served at 8.30pm and they had time to get some sleep. Jon had given the jewellery to Lorna to wear. Necklace, three rings, and a bracelet, all of which were covered by clothing. This was just in case their luggage was searched at Heathrow.

“Lt Novak, there’s something here I think you should see,” the cop from the precinct office said.

“What is it?” Novak asked.

“It’s a CCTV tape from the diamond district, I came across it yesterday when back-tracking on the screens,” the officer said. They went into his office and the cop started the machine, it showed Jon and Lorna leaving Levin’s shop and walking down the street.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he exploded. He remembered the croupier in the casino describing Mrs Smithson as, the ‘diamond lady’. He grabbed a squad car and drove with blues and sirens, he was mad at himself for being so stupid.

He showed his badge through the door, after pressing the security buzzer. It immediately opened, the Jewish dealer said, “How can I help you, sir?”

“Did you buy any diamonds from a tall Englishman, yesterday?”

“Yes, I did,” Levin replied.

“Let me see them,” Novak demanded.

Mr Levin produced a velvet bag, and poured 100 stones on to a scales dish, “They were set on a white gold chain,” the dealer said, “but I want to sell the stones seperately.”

“Did you check the trade and insurance computer?” asked Novak.

“Sure, I wouldn’t buy a bean without checking religiously,” the dealer replied.

“Okay, thanks a lot, and good shabas,” he added, it was late Friday.

“Thank you,” Levin answered, “and good shabas to you,” he smiled through his beard.

On his way back to the precinct house he thought, you schmuck, you let him slide through your fingers. What next, what next? went raging through his mind, extradition? not enough fucking evidence, the Brits wouldn’t wear it. But there must be some way I can nail that murdering bastard. All these thoughts were going through his fuddled brain, this was going to be a long haul, but one day, Jonathan Weston, I will crucify you, he promised himself. Almost two years were to pass before he saw justice.

The 747 landed at Heathrow, exactly on time, they walked through customs without any hiccups, Lorna managed to keep her cool, wearing $100,000 worth of diamonds. They had to get to Southampton to retrieve the Golf, Jon approached the black cab booking desk, “How much to Southampton docks, please?” he asked the pleasant, grey-haired man.

“£140, fixed fare.”

“Will the driver take US dollars?” Jon asked

“Just a moment, I’ll ask him,” the dispatcher said. “799” a voice crackled over the radio. “Gentleman and lady to go to Southampton docks, will you accept US dollars?” he asked. “Roger, $200, fixed rate,” the cockney voice said. “Roger 799, ready to go.”

They pushed their trolley out to the taxi pick-up point, a short cabbie jumped out of the black cab, and smiling, said, “Southampton?”

“Yes, please,” Jon said.

The bags loaded, they set off towards the south coast. The journey on the M25 and M3 was slow, traffic was heavy, even for early Saturday morning. Road repairs, an accident, it all took time, but there was no real hurry. The ship hadn’t arrived so the parking office girl was surprised to see them so early. Jon explained that they flew back from New York as Lorna had been very ill with sea-sickness. “I see,” she said. Jon gave her his ticket, and she called on the radio for the Golf to be brought from the pound. Once they were on their way back to London they both felt better, and Jon reminded Lorna that they were richer by at least £200,000. They both yippee’d, but at the back of Jon’s mind was the fact that two beautiful women were dead because of him.

They went directly to Vicky’s house, she was out, no white Audi, but Jon did notice one thing, a ‘For Sale’ board at the front of the house. He called his sister to find out what was happening, “I’m on my way home, I’ll be ten minutes and I’ll explain everything.”

“The bastards left me for his fucking receptionist, it’s been going on for ages. The house is in his name, but I’ll fight that, still the marriage is dead, I wouldn’t want to stay here anyway. But I want half, plus a large maintenance cheque every month.” Jon then introduced Lorna to Vicky, “Oh, I’m so sorry, and rude, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said.

“I need the Golf for a few more days,” Jon said.

“Keep it,” Vicky said, “it’s a gift, I can only drive one at a time,” she added.

“Thanks, thanks very much,” and he kissed her cheek, “we’ll see you again soon,” he said, “get a good nights sleep and stay off the bottle!”

“You can stay here if you wish,” she offered. They looked at each other and nodded agreement and thanked Vicky.

“I’ll get the bags from the car,” Jon said.

“Good, I could do with some company,” Vicky replied.

The two women got on well, talking about fashion etc., and Lorna told Vicky about New York,” Jon took me to the top of the Empire State Building and showed me Kong Kong’s claw marks!” she said, with a wink.

“Yes,” said Vicky, “our father got me with that one when I was a teenager, the trouble is, I believed it!” They laughed. Jon just sat with a drink, half listening and thinking about selling the rest of the diamonds. He left early the next morning, telling Lorna he’d be back at lunchtime. Driving down to Hatton Garden he put on a baseball cap so that no CCTV could see his face. He had already dirtied the number plates on the Golf. He went slowly along the street and picked out a large dealer, but kept his eye as to where the cameras were situated and was happy to see that the dealer was in a sort of blind spot. He removed his cap and pressed the buzzer, he was allowed in and went to the ‘For Sale’ window. “Good morning,” a young bearded man said.

“Good morning,” Jon said, “I have some jewellery for sale, they were my mother’s. Could you assay them and make me an offer?” He passed the rings and the bracelet through the gap in thick glass window. In the car he had spread glue on his fingertips to spoil any prints, gladly it had dried quickly. The young man took the gems into a larger than normal office that had no two-way window, and looked at them through a large desk-mounted magnifying glass. He then started to check on the computer, this process took longer than usual, Jon started to worry, but this was unfounded.

“I’ve got good news, the stones, rings and bracelet are worth £100,000, I’m prepared to pay you £80,000, what do you say?”

Jon, not wanting to seem too eager, stood thinking for a while, “Could you make it a bit more? mother owed that on a second mortgage,” he lied.

“No, I’m sorry, that’s my one and only offer,” the young man said.

“Okay,” said Jon, “it’s a deal.” He was passed the obligatory form through the window, he completed it and pushed it back through the glass.

“I won’t be a minute,” the young man said. He returned with eight plastic bags, each containing £10,000.

He donned his baseball cap, and walked back to the car feeling very wealthy indeed. As promised he got back to the house at lunchtime, he didn’t bother to press the buzzer, he’d known the entry code for years! but now that Peter was off the plot, he felt free to use it. £150,000 in cash, tax free, he mused, now for some leisure and spending time. He sat in the bedroom with Lorna, after locking the door, and spread the money in it’s entirety on the bed, every dollar and pound. The final sum was £320,000 after he had calculated rates of exchange. Jon had a re-think on a spending spree and told Lorna that they should act normally for six months, she should go back to work on Monday and continue as normal. He would stash the bulk of the cash in a safety deposit box, she agreed, in fact she thought it a good idea. “Just to let the dust settle,” Jon said.

Lorna was troubled by a sense of foreboding, supposing he was to keep all the cash for himself, she hadn’t killed anyone, she had only done what she was told. She wasn’t in love with him as such, of course, she fancied him, and the sex was fantastic, he excited her like no man had done before. He was a murderer, a cold blooded killer and he frightened her. She didn’t know what to do, may be she should write a letter to the police telling them everything and tell him that she had done so, and that the letter had been given to a friend for safe keeping, and the friend would give it to Scotland Yard if anything should happen to her, anything. At work she wrote to Scotland Yard, the letter would remain with her friend Zoe, whom Jon had never met or heard of. She then sent it to Zoe inside another envelope, with the instruction that it should only be sent upon her death. “Lorns, this is Zoe,” the voice on her mobile said, “where have you been, it’s four weeks since I last spoke to you, and what’s this letter all about, what’s going on?” she begged.

“I’ll meet you for lunch, and tell you all about it,” she arranged.

Over lunch in a wine bar close to Lorna’s office, she gave Zoe only an outline, that she only thought that Jon was guilty. “Oh Lorns, you’re imagining things,” and that she was being silly.

“ Okay, that’s as may be, but just in case, hang on to the letter and send it if necessary. I hope you don’t have to!” They parted and promised to keep in touch, she would never let Jon and Zoe meet.

“I’ve put the cash into the Marble Arch branch of Barclays Bank Safety Deposit Box, in both our names, here’s your key,” he said. He handed her a 2” thin brass key, “Don’t take it all, will you,” and laughed.

Lorna now felt terrible, but at the same time, safer and more confident, “Thank you,” she said, kissing him on the cheek with a sigh of relief. She would never know that the key was a spare to an old garage tool box, but Jon thought that it would keep her on his side, and give her a false sense of security if things went pear-shaped. He, of course, had the only customer key and the box was in his name only.

The weeks floated by, and Jon and Lorna carried on as normal, Jon started buying and selling cars, mainly from high-class dealers, having them buffed up and then selling them in good trade magazines. He was doing well, and Lorna and him were living mainly at Vicky’s house, but Vicky was happy with the arrangement. “We’re having a dinner party tomorrow night, and I want you to meet my new man, I hope you’re free,” she said.

“Yes, that would be fabulous,” Jon replied.

“Yes, fabulous,” Lorna added.

“DJ and revealing dress, okay?” Vicky announced.

“I always do smart and posh,” she laughed.

Lorna and Jon appeared down stairs for pre-dinner drinks at 7pm, looking absolutely fabulous. Vicky’s new man buzzed the entry button, “Get that, will you Jon.” He pressed the enter button and opened the door to see the latest Bentley coupe drive through the gates, wow! he thought, Vicky doesn’t fuck about! He held the door open for a grey haired man, about 6ft tall in his mid 40’s, “Good evening,” Jon said, “I’m Vicky’s brother, Jonathan.”

“I’m David Mackenzie.”

“Pleased to meet you,” they said simultaneously.

Vicky appeared, “Darling, I’m so glad you came, you’ve met my brother Jon, and this young lady is Jon’s partner, Lorna,” said Vicky, introducing them, “Lorna, please meet Sir David Mackenzie, my special guest for this evening.”

“No ‘sirs’, I’m just David, please let’s be less formal,” he said, looking at Lorna’s cleavage.

Lorna felt that she should curtsey, but didn’t, “Nice to meet you David,” she said, gently shaking his tanned, well-manicured hand.

The buzzer sounded again, and Jon opened the gates and front door, this time it was an Aston Martin Vanquish, he held the door and two men came into the porch. Obviously a gay couple but very smart and refined in very smart DJ’s, one white and one black. Vicky ran from the dining room, “Oliver, Grant, darlings, meet my brother Jon, he’s staying for a few days with his partner Lorna,” whom she introduced in the dining room, as the hired maid served champagne.

Then the buzzer sounded again, but after Grant and Oliver, Jon had left the front gates open. He opened the door to see the most beautiful girl, in her thirties, standing on the doorstep. Blonde, tall, quite Swedish looking, with green eyes. Vicky came into the hall from the dining area, “Asa darling, so lovely to see you, how are you?” They m’wah m’wah’d, and Vicky said, “Please meet my brother Jon, Asa is from Sweden, and a very clever heart specialist,” she spouted, “drink for my lovely Asa, please,” she said. Jon was thinking that Vicky had bashed the champers a little herself, she then introduced everybody to everybody else. Lorna saw Jon looking at Asa, and Asa looking at Lorna, inwardly he laughed, what a night this is going to be! He asked his sister if there would be any more guests, she said no, so he shut the front gates.