Making A Killing (The Romney and Marsh Files Book 2) (7 page)

*

‘Thank you for coming in to see us so quickly,
William,’ said Romney. ‘It’s much appreciated at what must be a very difficult time for you and your family. My condolences for your loss.’

The young man nodded without speaking. He looked drained, preoccupied and anxious. He had a right to. Wherever he had been the night before, Romney didn’t believe that he had found time to clean himself up and change. Romney’s immediate impression of the lad was that he was suffering under some huge burden. It could be the loss of his father, but Romney’s intuition suspected the weight had been there for a long time. The gait, the posture and the troubled expression were entrenched.

‘We could have come to see you at your home,’ said Romney.

‘I’d rather speak to you here. Mum is, well, she’s upset.’ William Emerson was a softly spoken and articulate young man.

‘Of course. I understand. I hope you won’t find this offensive, but was Phillip Emerson your biological father?’ William looked as though Romney couldn’t have said what he believed he’d heard. Romney pre-empted the reply before it had fully formed in the young man’s mind. ‘Sorry if that seems an odd question, but it was something your mother said today. She referred to you as her boy.’

William smiled without warmth. The effect on his countenance was to make him look very young, very vulnerable and even sadder. ‘I understand,’ he said. ‘She just calls me that. I think it was something she developed to try to antagonise my father and it became commonplace as an expression. Yes, he was my father, my biological father.’

‘What exactly has your mother told you about your father’s death?’

‘That he was murdered and found on the golf course. She said he’d died from a blow to the head.’ The boy was alert enough to catch the look exchanged between the two police officers. ‘Is that not true?’

‘It is true,’ said Romney, ‘but it wasn’t just one blow. I’m sorry, William, but he was pretty badly beaten.’ The boy’s jaw muscles tensed and worked. ‘I’m sure that your mother was just looking to spare you the details. Would you like a drink of water or something? It’s very hot in here.’ William Emerson shook his head. ‘William, I need to ask you a few questions. I hope you understand that some of them I’m obliged to ask for the benefit of the investigation I’m leading into your father’s death.’

The lad made a watery eye contact with Romney. ‘Sorry, could I please have that glass of water?’

Romney nodded to Marsh and she left the room. ‘Just to stress this is not a formal interview of any sort, William. We’re not making any recordings or anything like that. You understand what I’m saying?’

‘Yes, thank you.’

Marsh returned with a plastic cup of water from the cooler outside. William thanked her and took a couple of shallow sips.

‘We need to piece together the last movements of your father. Do you know where he was last night?’

‘Probably at the golf club. He spent a lot of time there.’

‘He was club captain, I understand.’

‘Yes, whatever that means.’ There was a touch of bitterness behind his words.

‘Not a golfer yourself then?’

‘No, not anymore.’

‘When did you last see your father, William?’

‘The day before yesterday. We ate out together. I didn’t see him yesterday at all. He’d left for work before I got up and he didn’t come home.’

‘Your mother told us that it wasn’t unusual for him to stay out all night.’ The lad nodded. A look of disappointment clouded his boyish features. Whether it was at his father’s regular absences
, or his mother’s volunteering of them, Romney could only guess. ‘Do you know where he was when he didn’t come home? Where he spent his time when he wasn’t at the golf club?’

Without much
apparent thought for the disclosure, William said, ‘He has a flat on the seafront, near the De Bradelei Wharf shopping complex.’

‘Does your mother know about it?’ said Romney.

William shook his head. ‘I’m sure she doesn’t. She’d have raised hell.’

‘Why?’

The sad half smile was back. ‘Why do you think, Inspector? He couldn’t exactly bring her home could he?’

Somewhere close outside the barred small window a blackbird was berating an intruder into its territory. For the first time since she’d been in the room Marsh became aware that the clock above the door could be heard ticking off every second.

Romney said, ‘Do you know the address?’

‘You can have my key if you like,’ said William. He took out a small bunch of them and removed one. Marsh noted the address as he dictated it to her. Showing a maturity and compassion beyond his appearance
, he said, ‘It would probably be kinder to my mother if she didn’t know that you got the key from me. She’ll find out about his love-nest, of course, but I would hope that she could be spared the extra anguish of knowing I was aware of it.’

‘And using it?’ said Romney.

‘I went there occasionally.’

‘You met his, what shall we call her? Girlfriend?’

‘Might as well. Yes. She was all right really. I couldn’t dislike her. It’s not like she came between him and my mother. There wasn’t ever anything to come between that I can remember.’

‘What’s her name?’

‘Lillian West. Do you want her phone number?’

William Emerson took out his mobile phone and dictated the number to Marsh.

‘Have you spoken to her since your mother told you about your father?’

He shook his head. ‘I have her number, but it’s only in case of an emergency.’ He caught his words and again the sad ghost of a smile was hovering at the corners of his mouth. ‘Well, it’s not an emergency really
, is it? There’s nothing to be done about it now. Besides, don’t you think that it would be a little surreal, me phoning my father’s girlfriend to tell her he’s been murdered, while my mother sits in the next room sobbing? She’s married too.’

Romney tried a look
of compassionate understanding but couldn’t be sure what he actually managed. ‘I see what you mean,’ he said.

‘Where were you last night, William? Your mother said that you weren’t at home either.’

‘I was at my girlfriend’s home. Would you like her number too?’ There was no sarcasm in his words just a straightforwardness that Romney found refreshing after years of dealing with the emotionally disturbed. He found himself warming to the young man opposite him.

‘That won’t be necessary, William. I just needed to ask. One last question: do you know of any enemies your father may have had? Why someone may have wanted to kill him?’

‘I truly have no idea,’ said the young man, and Romney believed him completely.

***

5

Romney and Marsh stood in the shade of the one tree that sat on the site of Dover police station. The large, leafy walnut of old age provided welcome shelter for smokers in the heat of summer, much to the disapproval of Superintendent Falkner. Seeing them gathered around its trunk puffing away dependently irritated him and spoilt the view from his office window. A tree preservation order was the only thing that prevented him from ordering in the chainsaws. Requests for a bench had been denied. Officers were not to be encouraged to pursue their filthy habit in any sort of comfort. A bucket of sand was a constant wagging-finger to them to dispose of their dog-ends responsibly.

Romney
took a long pull on his cigarette. ‘What do you make of that then?’

‘If you mean, am I surprised that t
he man was cheating on his wife? then the answer is no. I get surprised when men remain faithful. If he can afford somewhere discreet to do it then fair play to him. It’s interesting that he had his son’s connivance. But, if it worked for them all then fair enough, I suppose.’

‘We’ve yet to find out whether it was working for them all,’ said Romney. ‘What do you think of the boy?’

‘Sad. Looks like he’s got the world on his shoulders. Too young to look like that.’ She looked sideways at Romney. ‘I don’t think that he killed his father if that’s what you’re asking.’

‘Me neither, but I didn’t think that Carl Park was a rapist when I first met him.’

Romney’s reference was to one of Dover’s most appalling crimes of recent years. It was the first time he and Marsh had worked together. It was also a tacit reminder that open minds were to be kept and everyone would always be considered a suspect to some degree until the facts made the idea an impossibility.

‘Organise a meeting with the girlfriend. She can come here
, or we can meet her somewhere. If she’s married, she probably won’t want us spoiling her evening by calling at home. Ten minutes we’re off to the golf club. I want another chat with Masters.’ He stubbed his smoke into the sand, instinctively glancing up to see Superintendent Falkner looking down from his office above. Romney smiled and nodded, amused to be caught doing the right thing by his ever vigilant boss.

*

When Romney stepped out of his office he found Marsh taking her desk apart. Drawers were out and documents were piled on the floor and her chair. Even though she didn’t look it, he said, ‘Ready?’

Marsh came out from looking under her desk for the fourth time. ‘No, sir. I can’t find Phillip Emerson’s mobile phone.’

‘What?’

‘I’m sure I left it here. I know I did. I was collecting information from it before we went to interview William Emerson.’ A desperate
almost whining tone infected her speech.

‘How sure? Could you have taken it with you? Where else have you been?’

She shook her head. ‘I wouldn’t have taken it with me. Why would I?’ The question was intended as rhetorical, but to her own ears came off as an irritated reply to a senior officer. ‘Shit.’

Romney breathed out audibly and deeply. ‘Find it. I’ll take Grimes with me. What were you thinking anyway, leaving that kind of evidence lying around?’

She looked at Romney. ‘Sir, it’s a police station.’

‘Exactly.  And you’re going to find a lot of thievi
ng gits come through it. Grimes!’ The DC looked up from his desk across the room, his mouth full of food. Romney shook his head at the company he was forced to keep. ‘Come on. We’re going to the golf course.’ He turned an annoyed face back on Marsh. ‘Find it and ring that woman.’

*

The heat of the day was easing. The sun had abandoned its zenith some hours before the time Romney and Grimes returned to the White Cliffs Golf Course and the late afternoon was pleasant on the cliff tops. But it was still the same day they had come here to inspect a brutally murdered body.

In contrast with the outside brightness
, the interior of the pro shop was a dim confinement made smaller by the huge variety and wealth of golfing ephemera – a golfer’s Aladdin’s cave. It put Romney in mind of an arsenal. Boxes and baskets of balls – the ammunition; an armoury of racked clubs – the weapons; a diversity of clothing all colours and designs to parade around in – the uniforms; bags, trolleys, hats, gloves, shoes and a multitude of miscellaneous novelties and golfing related ephemera that promised to enhance one’s performance, enjoyment and appearance in battle. Anything and everything that one could possibly need, or imagine, to practise the game of golf. It all smelt new and expensive.

Spying Romney and Grimes, Elliot Masters came out from his little office behind the counter. There was a difference in the man. His aura of confidence and jollity had faded to be replaced with something darker. Something was obviously troubling him.

Romney allowed his gaze to swing theatrically around the little shop once more. ‘And I always thought that golf looked such a simple game,’ he said. ‘You just walk up to the ball and hit it don’t you? It’s not moving. No one is kicking lumps out of you, or trying to put you off, quite the opposite in fact. You have all the time in the world to line up your shot and take it. What could be easier?’

Masters had no choice but to listen to Romney sullying his love, life and living. But he did so with seemingly good grace. If Romney had hoped to needle the man into some scratchy remark he was disappointed.

‘All I can say, Inspector, is come and have a go sometime. See what it’s all about. See how easy you find it.’

‘Actually, it’s always looked like such a dull game to me. I’ve got better things to spend my money on.’

‘You’d be my guest. I could provide you with some clubs, balls and a complimentary round. Make it a week day and I’ll partner you myself. You never know, you might enjoy yourself. We’re always looking for new members.’ He raised an eyebrow to emphasise his challenge.

‘We’ll see,’ said Romney. ‘What happened to your little competition?’

‘Given the identity of the victim, it was considered appropriate to postpone it. In fact the course has been shut all day as a mark of respect.’

‘So if it had just been some old boy out walking his dog you’d have got on with it as soon as we’d swept up the bits of his head would you?’