The Paderborn Connection (5 page)

Saturday morning and for the second week running they had breakfast outside.

“What's your plans for the day sweetheart?”

“Shopping trip with Helen, she's buying a new outfit for her nephews wedding.”

They finished their breakfast, Mick went in to make some more coffee and just as he was about to take it out, his mobile rang.

“Inspector Joyce?”

“Speaking,” confirmed Mick.

“Inspector Reynolds here, from Guildford, we met last week when you came to see Mrs Austen.”

“Yes that's right,” said Mick.

“Well I was at the golf club last night and I told a few friends there about the death of Phil Austen, without going into detail of course. One of the group, Kenneth Taberner a financial advisor that quite a few of the members use, waited until just he and I were alone and he said did I know about Phil's financial situation. I said I'd not heard anything from Phil for quite some time and he told me that Phil was investing a lot of money in shares, he thought the amounts involved were far and above what he would be earning from the army. I thought you ought to know Inspector although I don't know if it's important.”

“I'm not sure if it's relevant or not but I will certainly enter it on the file, it may prove to be important. Thank you for ringing Inspector.”

Mick rang his oldest friend from outside the job, Ronnie Townley, to tell him that he couldn't go to the match that week-end because of work. Mick was a season ticket holder at White Hart Lane. Ronnie was a year older than Mick and they had been friends since that day in the park on the way home from school when Mick was being bullied by two older boys and Ronnie had intervened.

Sue drove Mick into work and he spent the day reviewing the information that they had got to date and planning the trip to Germany. He made several copies of the photos of Phillip Austen and the Major.

*

Mick drove home with one of his favourite CD's on, ska music from the late seventies and early eighties, Madness, Desmond Decker, The Specials, music from the time that he was working hard and playing harder. It was at a disco that had a ska night every Friday that he had met Sue. He had his new suit on, she was wearing a black and white checked dress fairly short and tight fitting, with her short dark hair it was lust at first sight. They had hit it off straight away, they had the same sense of humour, liked the same music, both had jobs with good prospects and lived reasonably close together, he in Enfield and she in Cheshunt.

*

He pulled onto the drive behind Sue's Mini and went in.

“Did Helen find an outfit?”

“Yes, a lovely salmon pink dress and jacket.”

“Did you treat yourself to anything?”

“Just a skirt and top for work.” she said “And I got you an English – German phrase book. It's on the desk.”

“Danke mein fraulein,” he said laughing.

*

That evening they ate their steaks and drank the wine, an Etta James CD playing and the light dimmed. Mick was fairly quiet and Sue knew the signs, he was deep in thought.

“What are you thinking about Mick?”

“Oh, sorry, it's just this trip to Germany. I need to make a list of everything I need to do, the questions I need to ask, the people I need to see.”

“Well you can do that tomorrow, tonight you can pay some attention to your wife of twenty five years and one week.”

She cleared the table and took the dirty dishes into the kitchen and put them into the dishwasher. She ran some hot water into the sink, added the washing-up liquid and started to wash the saucepans. Mick walked into the kitchen and put the kettle on. Standing behind Sue he slid his hands around her waist and then under her white sleeveless jumper, kissing her neck as he did so.

*

Sunday morning dawned and Mick was up before eight, he wanted to go and see his father at the hospice. He shaved, showered and dressed and drove to the hospice in Stevenage, parked under the chestnut tree and went in.

“Go straight up Mr Joyce,” said Mrs Carmichael “I think he's eating some breakfast so you might be able to have a few words with him.”

Mick walked up the stairs, along the corridor past the picture of Rydal water which he particularly liked and went into his father's room.

“Morning dad,” he said cheerily.

There was no response, Bernard Joyce was sitting up in bed drinking a cup of tea, but didn't look up.

Mick tried again “Morning dad.” His father looked up and struggled to focus on his sons face.

“Oh it's you Mick, how are you.”

“I'm fine dad, more to the point, how do you feel?”

“Tired son. Tired.”

*

Bernard Joyce was once a fine figure of a man, not particularly tall but athletically built and still very active until well into his seventies. His skin was now pale and drawn and his hair was thin and grey.

Mick sat with his father for an hour but it was impossible to have a proper conversation, they sat in silence. Bernard drifting off into sleep and Mick looking out of the window at the rain. Mick stood up, said “bye dad” and left.

He called into Hatfield where Bob and Matt were working and he made a list of any documents that would be useful, bank statements, credit card statements hire purchase documents and the like. Oh, and any documents relating to share purchases. He made a note to take extra copies of the two photos, one of Captain Austen and the one of the Major, he would show the one of the major to everybody he came into contact with in Paderborn, somebody must know her. He would also take the loose leaf folder with the coded letters and numbers, Lieutenant Jordan might know what it means.

*

After chatting with the other two for a few minutes he left and drove home.

He pulled onto the drive and went in.

“How is he?” said Sue.

“Seems about the same,” replied Mick as he went into the lounge, settled into his armchair and reached over to the coffee table and picked up a pen and note pad. His mind was now back on the case and he made a list of the people he wanted to talk to, the people he wanted to know about, the neighbours, and the people Captain Austen knew or at least had contact with.

They had a quiet day together, Sue made a late lunch about three and they chatted about Micks father, his trip to Germany and whether or not they would get a holiday in the autumn. Mick packed his overnight case, checked that he had his passport and the various papers and photos he was taking. About ten Mick said “I'm off to bed sweetheart, I want to be up before five in the morning, I'll try not to disturb you too much.”

Mick set off for Stansted at five fifteen and got there just after six, parked and hurried to the check in desk. He checked in and went through security and placed his overnight bag on the conveyor belt together with his shoes, belt, watch, mobile, wallet and small change in the tray but as he passed through the scanner the security guard waiting at the other side stopped him and indicated for him to stand still with his arms out. He ran his arms expertly down around Micks body and then said

“Would you turn out your inside pocket of your jacket sir.”

Mick looked slightly puzzled and then realised what the Security guard had felt. “Sorry,” he said as he took out his warrant card and handed it over, the guard examined it and without any further comment, nodded and handed it back waving him through.

Mick replaced his watch, belt and shoes, collected the remaining items in the tray, picked up his bag and headed for the departure lounge.

He bought a hot chocolate and an almond croissant and sat down where he could see the departure board. Air Berlin flight to Dusseldorf came up and Mick was pleased to see that it was on time. The flight was called and Mick proceeded to gate eleven. The plane was pretty well full and Mick found his seat, put his bag in the overhead locker and sat down in the seat next to the aisle. The seat near the window and the middle seat were occupied by an elderly couple. Mick smiled and said good morning as he sat down.

“Guten morgen,” replied the man.

*

The flight itself was fairly uneventful, the couple next to him chatted away in German, the man across the aisle was reading the Daily Mail and the two men immediately in front of him were discussing, in English, their forthcoming meeting at some sort of IT company's offices in Ratingen which he guessed was just outside Dusseldorf.

The plane landed on time and Mick retrieved his overnight bag from the overhead luggage locker, and made his way to the exit, stopping every few seconds to allow other passengers to leave their seats and collect their bags and coats from above. He eventually left the plane and waiting at the bottom of the steps was what Sue referred to as ‘the bendy bus', a bus in two sections which had very few seats but seemed to accommodate at least half the dis-embarking passengers.

He reached the terminal building and passed through the security gate marked ‘EU nationals' without being stopped although he had his passport ready, nobody wanted to look at it.

He passed into the main arrivals area and looked for somebody holding up the ubiquitous piece of cardboard with his name written on it in felt tip pen. He spotted his name ‘Michael Joyce', not on a piece of cardboard but on a very professional looking sheet of white Perspex with printed letters in dark blue. He walked over to the man holding it.

“Good morning, I'm Michael Joyce.”

“Good morning,” said the man, a good six foot tall with brown hair cut short, aged about thirty five to forty guessed Mick, “I'm Andrew Jordan. The cars just over there if you would follow me, do you want a hand with your bag?”

Mick said he was fine and followed Lieutenant Jordan to the car.

“I half expected to see you in army uniform rather than a suit” Mick said as the settled into their seats.

“We don't tend to wear uniform much, particularly away from the barracks, similarly your name board didn't give your rank or any clue as to your occupation.”

Mick realised immediately what the Lieutenant meant, “Security very much an issue is it then?”

“Absolutely,” came the reply.

They exchanged the usual pleasantries as they drove out of the airport and made their way east, skirting around Dortmund and onto the road signposted ‘Paderborn.'

“I've arranged to meet the letting agents at Captain Austen's flat at five o'clock, his neighbours should be arriving home when we have finished in the flat, I thought you might want to speak to some of them.”

“Good thinking Lieutenant.”

“Actually sir, would you mind calling me Andrew rather than referring to me by my rank”

“Of course,” said Mick, “and please call me Michael.”

“Did you get a chance to check if his car was parked at the airport?”

“No need to, I went to his flat last night, it's only a few miles away from where I live. His car is in the car park. One other thing Michael, we'll be meeting a German police officer at the flat. Whilst the Military Police have pretty well unrestricted jurisdiction when on army land or dealing with army personnel away from the barracks we do inform them if we intend to interview private citizens or search private property. I've told them one of our officers was murdered in the UK and we need to search his flat in Bielefeld.”

They are not particularly interested in what happened in England but did express a wish to be present at the search of his flat, I suppose they want to be involved in case German law has been broken or if a German national is involved in some way.”

“I don't have a problem with that Andrew but I may want to take some items away with me, I'll leave you to smooth that over with the German Police if it's a problem.”

*

It was just after one when they drove into the barracks at Paderborn, although the sign actually said ‘Sennelager barracks'.

“We have several garrisons around here,” explained Andrew, “although we tend to just refer to ‘Paderborn barracks' there used to be about thirty to forty thousand British servicemen and women here during the sixties and seventies but since the Berlin wall came down that number has drastically reduced. I have an office over here,” he said, gesturing for Michael to follow him.

They passed a security post where a Corporal was reading his paper.

“Bang Bang, “said Andrew as the sentry looked up.

“Very funny Lieutenant but I saw you drive through the gate.”

“That's as may be but you don't know who this gentleman is.”

Andrew introduced Detective Inspector Michael Joyce of The Hertfordshire Police.

“Fix him up with a pass covering today and tomorrow please Corporal.”

*

They went into Andrew Jordan's office and Mick asked him if he had booked him into a hotel.

“Yes, one in the town that we use, it should suit you I hope, mainly businessmen staying there.”

“Sounds fine Andrew thank you.”

“I've ordered us some lunch, a cold meat salad, to be brought over to have here, I hope that's all right. I thought we could talk uninterrupted whilst we eat.”

Mick reached into his overnight bag and took out a couple of folders and from the buff coloured one, extracted a copy of the report he had given to Brigadier Fredericks the Friday before. He quickly ran through it emphasizing the important points.

“So you think Phil Austen was killed by a doctor or a nurse?”

“It's a fact that whoever killed him had medical training, and we believe that shortly before he was killed, he was dining in a nearby Chinese restaurant with a women he is thought to have called ‘major'. This is a photo of that woman we managed to obtain but we have no idea who she is.”

“No, I can't say I recognise her Michael.”

“Do you have people from the Royal Medical Corps stationed here?”

“Some, certainly but an awful lot are serving overseas at the moment of course.”

“Is it possible you could pass that photo around, see if any doctors or nurses recognise her? Captain Austen obviously knew her fairly well and if she is a major somebody here might know her,” said Mick.

“The next item I want you to look at is this small loose leaf folder we found in his hotel room. As you can see it's mainly a list of letter and numbers. Do you recognise it at all?”

“Yes, I remember seeing Phil writing in it once but I never took much notice to be honest.”

“Do the numbers and letters mean anything to you?”

Andrew Jordan studied them for a few minutes and said

“Well, all of the numbers are either single or double digit numbers between one and thirty one followed by a single or double digit number between one and twelve so they have to be dates. The letters are in groups of two or three so they could be initials of people. There is no Q, X or Z, quite a few D's, S's, J's which are common first letters of English, or indeed European, names. If we can find his address book we might be able to match some of them up.”

Mick decided that Andrew must be right, he himself had thought it was all in some sort of Code used only by the Army, he had missed the obvious conclusion that Andrew had reached so quickly.

Just then the Corporal from the gatehouse arrived with their lunch.

“How many people do you think you have seen passing in and out of the camp since you came here two years ago Corporal?” asked Andrew.

“Sir?” He said somewhat puzzled by the question.

“Have you ever seen this woman, possibly in uniform” he said showing the Corporal the photo of the Major. The Corporal studied the photo,

“Don't think so Sir, I think I would have remembered her.”

“How well did you know Captain Austen Andrew, I'm thinking more about his private life, his friends, his social life and so on. Did he have a lady friend?”

“To be honest I didn't really know him that well, we certainly never socialised together. I am based here and Captain Austen was based a few miles north at the garrison in Bielefeld not far from where he lived.”

“We spoke frequently on the phone of course but there was never much small talk, it was almost always about work.”

“Do you know what he was working on recently?” asked Mick

“Somebody was selling army stores at a market in one of the less affluent areas of town, almost certainly stolen. I think he had a couple of suspects in mind but as I said to Brigadier Fredericks, nothing that warranted somebody going to England to kill him for.”

“Can we go his office in Bielefeld on the way to his flat to see if there is anything of interest?”

“I'll just need to make a phone call,” said Andrew reaching for the receiver.

“Afternoon Sir, Lieutenant Jordan here. I have the Detective Inspector from England about Captain Austen's murder with me. We are coming over to his flat later this afternoon, is it possible we could call in and see you, say about four? The Inspector is looking for some clue in Captain Austen's work or social life to indicate a motive.”

“Certainly Andrew, four o'clock it is.”

“I just need to make a couple of calls myself Andrew, if I may.”

“Well whilst you do that I'll pop over and see if there is anybody free at the medical Centre to look at the photo of the woman.”

“Here, take a couple more with you and see if you can pin them up in a staffroom or somewhere similar with a note underneath saying “do you know this woman?”

Andrew smiled and said, “leave it with me Michael.”

*

Mick rang the station and spoke to Bob.

“Have you managed to look at the CCTV recordings yet Bob?”

“Matt and I are doing it now. We have a good picture of the victim walking away from the accountants where he parked but he appears to be on his own. Nothing yet from the four cameras nearest to the restaurant showing the woman.

Phillip Austen's son Christopher came in this afternoon and formally identified the body so that's another box ticked.”

“How's it going over there?” said Bob.

“Ok, Lieutenant Jordan seems bright enough, we're just about to go to the flat now. Give me a ring if anything comes up. You can contact me on my mobile if you need me. Cheers.”