Authors: Roger Forsdyke
The Perfect Crime (15 page)
Groat sat at his desk. He quietly congratulated himself at extricating himself from the catastrophic predicament that had threatened to exterminate him. He considered that the shimmering sterling inlay in this particular cumulonimbus – testing though it had been at times – was his powerful new ally, the DAC, Mr Van Lesseps. The only shadow on his personal horizon was sorting out this drivel about buying properties abroad with Gloria and his life would be back on an even keel. Then it was promotion and ever onwards and upwards.
“Mr Groat?”
Call
me
sir
… He looked round, “What the...”
He had seen them before – or something very like them. They came in two versions. Young bucks trying to make a name for themselves, taking the soft option, clawing their way up the promotion ladder by nailing errant policeman instead of real criminals, or older officers, jaundiced by the ever present perception of corrupt police officers spoiling things for the good guys. This time there was one of each.
“What is it?” he continued, “I’m busy. Important busy, if you get my drift. Not some non-operational crap dreamed up by Complaints and Discipline.”
The older officer was a doppelganger Herman from the 1960’s TV show ‘The Munsters’. He spoke in a slow, measured fashion. “I am Superintendent Humble of the Complaints and Discipline Department. This is Acting Chief Inspector Bright. As a senior officer, you will appreciate that complaint matters take precedence over operational business. However, in this case it really makes no difference, as we have been tasked with investigating a serious criminal offence.” He paused. “You will also appreciate that we only get involved in criminal allegations if police officers are involved.”
“Yeah, yeah. So what poor sod’s getting stitched up now? And why are you telling me?”
“It’s you.” Bright blurted.
“I know it’s me,” Groat snapped irritably, “I’ve been here all morning.”
Superintendent Humble said, “What Acting Chief Inspector Bright is trying to tell you, is that you are the subject of our enquiry.”
“Me?” Groat squeaked.
Humble bore on, “Lester Edwin Groat, I am arresting you for the murder of Suzie Wong. You are not obliged to say anything but…”
“Suzie Wong?” Groat spluttered, “Suzie Wong was a Chinese prostitute in that film with William Holden, years ago. What are you on about? Are you trying to get me going, or what? This is a joke, isn’t it. Well, I’m telling you, it’s a fuckin’ bad one.”
“No sir.” Already, Bright was not living up to his name. He had clearly failed to do his homework, as he and Groat were basically the same rank. “A prostitute who called herself Suzie Wong was murdered last night. You were seen leaving the premises and…”
The superintendent cleared his throat in a stentorian and imperative manner, drowning out his colleague, before he could give away all their evidence to the suspect.
“Prostitute?” Groat shouted, “I’ve never been with a prostitute in my life.” He fell silent, adopting a gradually glowing shade of pale crimson.
“Mr Groat,” the older officer said, “people are staring. Shall we go somewhere a little more private?”
“Fuck your private.” Groat said, only a little less loudly.
Prior to joining the police, Bright had completed a short service commission in the army. “I’ll have you know I’m an acting chief inspector.” He said angrily.
Groat said, “Well anything you want to say to me, you can say here. I’ve nothing to hide and I’ve certainly not killed anyone.”
The second of these statements, at least, was true.
Witnessing the commotion, Ted Pearson now approached, his face a picture of concern. “What’s up, Guv?”
Groat told him, “This shower is trying to suggest I murdered a prostitute last night.”
“Guv?” Ted radiated alarm.
“Someone called Suzie Wong.”
Ted frowned, “Wasn’t Suzie Wong a Chinese girl in that film with William Holden, years ago?”
“Exactly what I said.”
“They’ve got to be joking.” Turning to Humble and Bright, Ted said, “You’ve got to be joking. Just what is going on here?”
The superintendent had been trying to get back into the conversation for some little while. “I’m sorry, but I am not at liberty to discuss the case with unauthorised persons.”
“Unauthorised persons?” Groat yelled, “He’s my fucking D/S.”
Bright was also feeling left out and considered that Complaints and Discipline ought to have the upper hand. “Whatever.” He said. “You’ve got to come with us.”
Superintendent Humble said, “Mr Groat, you will
have
to come with us. Now, are you going to come quietly?”
Groat had never actually heard anyone say that – apart from on the TV. He certainly never used the phrase himself. In spite of what was happening, a part of him was still detached enough to think,
well
,
I
suppose
he’s
toward
the
end
of
his
service
now
,
so
he
started
in
the
1940’s
.
And
he
sounds
like
he’s
still
there
.
Tosser
.
“No I bloody well won’t.” Groat gathered himself for a crescendo, “Look everybody – the DCI is being arrested by Complaints and Discipline.” He went head to head with the superintendent – not easy, as Humble had barely scraped over the height requirement – “You will regret this, big time. Egg. All over your face. I have friends y’know.” He gritted, “You’ll pay for this.”
He intended to sound mean and dangerous. He was certainly close to the edge, as he said, “Wait ‘til DAC Van Lesseps hears about this. Your feet won’t touch the fuckin’ ground.” He turned to Ted who stood there looking concerned – for any number of reasons – and said to him, as much for Humble and Bright’s benefit as anyone’s, “If I am not back at my desk by nine o’clock sharp in the morning, call my solicitor and make as much fuss as you know how – oh, and call Deputy Assistant Commissioner Van Lesseps and let him know, as well.”
Bright went to take hold of his arm. Groat wrenched away from his grip and turned on him. “Take your hands off me, you snivelling little shit.” He glared, “You realise that this is your career finished, don’t you.”
The Acting Chief Inspector wanted to retort, “So what about yours, then?” But thought he’d just end up sounding bitchy, so he kept quiet and just looked the brightest he’d been all day.
*
Humble and Bright took Groat to the interview rooms in the Complaints and Discipline department. He was relieved that they hadn’t seen fit to take him straight to police cells, which, on the grounds he had been arrested for, they would have been quite entitled to do. They’d cautioned him again and Bright stacked pads of lined paper in front of him, making notes as they talked.
“So where were you last night between the hours of, say, eight p.m. and four am?” Humble enquired.
“Where d’you think.” Groat retorted sourly.
“With your wife…” Humble picked up a pad and scanned it rapidly, “Mrs Groat, er, Gloria, isn’t it?”
“Yes. Well, that is, no. She’s away at the moment.”
“Marital problems?” Bright smiled, winked and nodded with gratuitous understanding.
Humble continued, “So you were at home all night?”
“Yes.”
“And you came straight to work from your home address…” he again consulted his pad, “in Loughton?”
“Yes, that’s correct.”
“And was there anyone else there who can verify that?”
“No.”
“Mmm.” He paused, “Can you explain how, then, you were seen at Cadogan Mansions, off Old Street, at seven forty five a.m. this morning?”
Groat suddenly felt as though his knackers were being painfully squeezed between two huge lumps of supercooled ice.
Shit
.
There
was
no
one
about
.
Some
bloody
nosy
curtain
-
twitcher
. He started to colour up, then thought,
He’s
bluffing
.
I’m
not
falling
for
that
.
It’s
the
oldest
trick
in
the
world
.
Idiot
.
“Bollocks. Nobody’s seen me anywhere.”
Humble shuffled papers, located a witness statement and read, “Mrs Ethel Shorter, 325, Cadogan Mansions. I quote – ‘
he’s
very
tall
,
average
build
,
in
his
mid
thirties
and
drives
a
newish
metallic
blue
Ford
Capri
.
He
often
visits
number
337
where
Olivia
lives
alone
,
since
her
Mum
died
.
I’d
got
the
milk
in
,
about
seven
forty
-
five
this
morning
when
I
saw
him
leaving
the
flats
,
right
by
number
315
.
I
would
recognise
him
again
and
I
would
be
prepared
to
attend
an
identification
parade
if
required
to
do
so
’.” Humble cleared his throat. “Three one five was where the murder took place, although I expect you already know that.”
“…already know that.” Bright repeated as he scribbled.
Groat tried to ignore Bright and concentrated hard on keeping his thoughts together, not allowing them to divide into strands. He really would lose his way if that happened. He was aware that he would be totally home, free, if he declared his visit to Olivia’s place and explained it to be part of a sting, but he could not do that yet. The operation was still in full flow, with the first of the drops to be collected tonight. He’d opted out of this part of the job and trusted Ted to do a good, solid piece of work. It wasn’t helping him in his current predicament, though. He would have to ride it out. They would have to release him sooner or later, so he would bide his time until the damning information from Olivia’s little black book was secured. Until then he could not tell them anything; after that nothing would need explaining.
Humble and Bright took a break, leaving Groat guarded by a woodentop. He was offered sandwiches, so dried up they were curling up off the plate and threatening a walk out. He refused, but accepted a mug of tea.
When they returned, they reversed roles. The superintendent prepared to take notes; Bright was being given a chance to ask questions. In spite of his circumstances, Groat grinned to himself.
Bright began, “I will remind you that you are still under caution.”
“
Acting
chief inspector, is it?” Groat said.
“Yes, now…”
“And how many murder enquiries exactly have you worked on?”
Bright’s complexion again promised to emulate his name. “Er, enough.” He said, looking uncomfortable.
“I worked on the A6 murder, remember that? James Francis Hanratty, when I was barely out of my probation…” He ran through a string of other high profile enquiries. “What is your experience exactly? How many did you say you’d been involved with?”
Bright’s colour deepened. “One.” Barely more than a whisper.
“So what makes you qualified to work on this one? Especially when you decide to interview a fellow senior officer?” He laid heavy emphasis on
Senior
.
“Bright.” The superintendent barked. “Are you actually going to ask the man some questions?”
“Well, as I said, you are still under caution, that is, you are not obliged to say anything…”
Groat spoke over him again, “For god’s sake, I know the bloody caution. Used it more times than you’ve had hot dinners, probably. If you are actually going to ask me some questions, for chrissake get on with it.”
“Right. You told us that you were at home, alone all last night. We know that is not true because Mrs Shorter saw you at Cadogan Mansions this morning, so that was a lie. Can you explain why you were there?”
“No. Not at the moment. And for your education, if something is not
entirely
correct, that does not necessarily render it totally untrue. It certainly does not make it a lie. Got that?”
“But you admit that you were there?”
“Even if I was there at that time, does not mean that I was there – when did you say? Between 8 p.m. last night and 4 a.m. this morning, does it?”
“But you were there when Mrs Shorter saw you.” Bright pressed him.
“You are trying to fit me up for a murder, correct?”
“Yes. No. I mean, not fit you up, interview you, prove that you did it.”
Humble could not contain himself any longer. “We are here to establish exactly what went on at 315, Cadogan Mansions.”
“Can’t help you there,” Groat barrelled on, “but what you’re saying – if I have it right – is, because someone saw me in the vicinity of that location at 07:45 this morning means that a) that I was not at home – overnight, before that – and b) that I was somehow involved with the person actually inside number 315?”
“Probably.” Bright said.
“And it also proves I was connected with whatever happened in number 315?”
“Possibly.”
“Bollocks. Possibly and probably does not translate into ‘beyond all reasonable doubt’ which even you – ” He glared at Bright “might remember is the burden of proof required to sustain a conviction in a court of criminal law.”
Humble was ready to explode, but controlled his anger. “Mr Groat. We are supposed to be asking the questions here. So, putting all that waffle aside, were you there this morning, at 07:45?”
He hesitated before answering, “Might have been… In that general area...”
Bright again, “So why did you lie to us earlier, then?”
“I didn’t. Was what I said completely lost on you? Let me make it simple for you. Which word, exactly, did you not understand?”
“All right. Why did you not say – that is, volunteer the information – that you were in the vicinity? It would have allowed us to move on and wouldn’t have cast even more suspicion on you. Like it has.”
“I didn’t think anybody was around to see me and I can’t afford to compromise the project I’m working on at the moment.”
“Project? What project?”
“Need to know basis – and you, most definitely, do not need to know.”
“So are you telling us you were on police business?”
“Oh, well done.”
“All night?”
“If you like.”
“So how come you were rostered to work eight to four yesterday and nine to five today. Are you telling us you are in the process of working thirty three hours without a break?”
“Yeah, whatever.”
Humble interjected, “And is that why you are shown as booking off duty at sixteen twenty yesterday afternoon?”
Groat sighed. He could spill the beans (a carefully edited can, of course) and the nightmare would be over. But that would not only spoil the current project, but also ruin the overarching purpose. That of ridding him of Olivia’s criminal scheme and getting him out of his self excavated grave – as well as the small added bonuses of gaining a lord protector and salvaging his job and marriage.
No contest.
Egregiously uncomfortable in the short term, but absolutely no contest whatsoever.
He said, “Look. I was on legitimate business.”
Legitimate
one
-
last
-
shag
-
before
-
I
-
lose
-
it
-
forever
business
,
that
is
. “I can’t talk about it at the moment and I didn’t even want to mention it at all in the first place. You’ve forced me so far, but no further.”
“Not good enough, I’m afraid, Mr Groat.” Humble said quietly. “Show him the first exhibit, Mr Bright.”
Exhibit?
First
exhibit
?
Bright fumbled in the brown paper bag on the floor beside him and withdrew a small cellophane packet. Placed it on the table between them.
Groat’s scrotum screwed painfully taut again. He swallowed. “Where the devil did you get that?”
“It was beside the body. It has your fingerprints on it.”
“Of course it’ll have my bloody fingerprints on it. It’s mine. But how the hell did you get hold of it?”
Humble said, “You’ve just been told. Do I have to spell it out to you? Next to the body of a dead prostitute called Suzie Wong, in number three one five Cadogan Mansions.”
Groat picked up the bag. It contained a metallic grey Ronson Variflame cigarette lighter with the initials L.E.G. on one side and engraved on the other ‘
Your
flame
,
always
,
Love
G
.
’
He was unable to use it as it leaked and would no longer hold a charge of gas.
“I’ve never been near three one five. Not inside, anyhow.”
Bright said, “What brand of cigarettes do you smoke, Mr Groat?” He retrieved a half empty packet of Rothmans King Size from the brown paper bag and tossed them onto the table. “Rothmans, by any chance?”
Humble said, “I think it’s about time you started talking to us. Properly. Don’t you,
Temporary
Chief Inspector?”