Wrongful Death (9 page)

‘If I can’t see it how do I know it’s missing?’ Anna asked, frustrated that after three re-enactments, Dewar was still not getting to the point.

‘Look at the back of his right hand – there’s no blood.’

Anna pointed to the picture of Reynolds on the floor. ‘There’s some on his left arm, hand and plenty on the floor.’

Dewar replied that she was not a blood distribution expert but she knew a bit about guns and firearms injuries. She told Anna that the blood distribution and brain debris on his left arm, hand and the sofa would have come from the forward spatter as the bullet exited his head and embedded itself in the woodwork of the sofa.

‘Think of a pebble being dropped into water and the upward splash it causes at the point of impact,’ Dewar said, keen for Anna to understand. ‘A bullet has a similar effect. It enters the head, causing blood to exit back towards the gun. It’s called back spatter. The closer the gun the more back spatter you get,’ she explained, and picked out a photograph from the bundle she had prepared and held it up. ‘Look on this close-up photo. There’s some blood on the floor in line with his right knee. The direction and position is away from the body. Assuming it’s back spatter then there should be blood on the back of his hand.’

Anna recalled the pathologist’s report mentioning powder burns around the entry wound, which indicated the gun was held close to the head of the victim. She realized that Dewar had hit on something that was critical to the scene assessment and wondered if it had been looked into at the time and was yet another thing Paul Simms had omitted to mention in his report.

‘I have to say, Jessie, your scene re-assessment is not only very professional but also very interesting. You’ve raised some thought-provoking questions about how Joshua Reynolds may have died,’ Anna conceded.

‘Thank you, Anna. I know it was a bit long-winded but I tend to envelop myself in my own world trying to figure out every possible scenario.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me your concerns about the scene before now?’

‘Because I needed to come here and get a real feel for the place and put it all together piece by piece.’

Anna understood, she often got a gut feeling herself and never said anything until she could confirm her own suspicions. She wondered if her bias towards the Reynolds case being suicide, coupled with her eagerness to go to Quantico, had clouded her judgement.

‘There are obviously serious issues concerning the blood distribution,’ Anna said, wishing she had taken more time to examine the scene photographs herself.

‘Simms’ report doesn’t even mention a blood distribution expert attending the scene,’ Dewar remarked.

‘Pete Jenkins was the forensic scientist who dealt with the stuff sent to the lab so I assume he also attended the scene. Simms’ report said a Crime Scene Manager and Dr Harrow the pathologist did.’

‘We really need to speak with this guy Jenkins and the pathologist as soon as possible,’ Dewar insisted.

‘Leave it with me and I will arrange a meet with them both.’

However, Anna was apprehensive about Dewar discussing her thoughts and theories with Pete Jenkins. The agent, convinced she was right, was on a real high and Anna knew she would not let go easily. It worried her that no matter what Pete said she would try and force her opinions on him. Anna knew he was one of the best forensic scientists in the lab, as she’d reaped the benefits of his forensic knowledge and expert opinion on a number of murder investigations. If Pete Jenkins disproved Dewar’s scene assessment, Anna thought it would be better coming from her, albeit second hand. That way she could tell Dewar calmly and objectively that she was wrong. She hoped that her breakfast meeting with Paul Simms might help to clear up some of her concerns before she made contact with Pete.

Arriving back at the station, Dewar went to the canteen to get them each a sandwich. As Anna made a beeline for Paul Barolli, her mobile rang.

‘I’m Gloria Lynne, Donna’s mother, and I’m sorry to bother you, Detective Travis, but there’s a bit of a hiccup with this afternoon’s agenda. It’s Donna, you see. Poor darling has got herself into a bit of a tizzy.’

Anna immediately noticed how well spoken Gloria was, with a distinct upper-class voice.

‘About my wanting to speak with her?’ Anna asked.

‘Oh, it’s not that at all, I haven’t even told her you’re a vice-squad detective. I simply instructed her to be here at four as I had someone coming for afternoon tea that I wanted her to meet.’

‘I see,’ Anna said, not exactly sure what the problem was.

‘Donna is still very emotional about the loss of Joshua, so the mention of police, or anything or anyone connected to him is quite distressing for her. So, I thought it best you came along unannounced.’

‘So what’s the hiccup, Mrs Lynne?’

‘Donna forgot that she had a three-o’clock appointment at Michaeljohn.’

Anna had heard of Michaeljohn and knew that it was a very expensive Mayfair salon frequented by royalty, Hollywood actresses and other A-list celebrities.

‘I can come tomorrow,’ Anna offered.

‘Don’t, please. I was merely wondering if it would be possible for you to come to my house a bit later. Say about six. Donna will be home by then.’

Anna said that would be fine and ended the conversation, unsure of what to make of the caller. She wondered how Gloria would react when she found out that Anna was actually reinvestigating her son-in-law’s death as a possible murder. She wondered if it might have been better to tell her the truth from the outset, but at least she could now fall back on the excuse that she hadn’t wanted Donna to become overstressed at the thought of speaking to a murder-squad detective.

Dewar returned with a chicken sandwich and coffee for Anna, apologizing for the delay and saying that she got stuck in the canteen talking to Barbara. Anna remarked that once Barbara got going she was a bit hard to get away from.

‘She rambled on about being single and needing to lose weight if she wanted to “pull a fit bloke”,’ Dewar went on, ‘although I have absolutely no idea what that means.’

Anna told Dewar about the phone call from Gloria Lynne and the rearranged interview time with Donna.

‘It’s going to be a late finish, so to save us both returning to the station, I’ll take my car to Gloria’s house and you can follow me,’ Anna suggested.

‘That’s fine, but I’m wondering, now we’ve got time to kill before seeing Donna, if it might be worth paying a quick visit to the Trojan first?’

‘Why?’

‘To get the feel for the place, like the Reynolds scene. We’d be discreet.’

‘Basically, you want to see how Marcus Williams reacts when we say were reinvestigating his partner Josh’s death. I believe you Americans say “put the squeeze on him”.’

‘You see, Anna, you’re thinking like me already.’ Dewar laughed.

‘No. I know what you’re thinking and I’m not so sure it’s a good idea quite yet.’

‘We don’t mention the interview with Donna. Then we can check Williams’ mobile, see if he calls or texts her after we leave.’

‘I’m becoming a soft touch,’ Anna said.

Dewar wagged her finger. ‘No. You like the thrill of the chase.’

Anna put her notebook in her bag. ‘I’m still not convinced Reynolds was murdered.’

‘You will be. Trust me.’

‘As long as you promise to hold back on Donna Reynolds, treat her as a witness, not a suspect, until we have hard evidence to prove otherwise,’ Anna replied, although she knew that this was unlikely to happen.

Chapter Eight

By the time Anna got to her car, Dewar was already in hers, slamming her door shut. As she started up the engine she lowered the window and told Anna she’d meet her outside the front of the Trojan club in Rupert Street. Anna watched, impressed by her enthusiasm, as she drove out of the underground car park too fast and on the wrong side of the arrows.

On her way to the club, Anna took the opportunity to put in a quick call to Pete Jenkins at the forensics lab, but his assistant said he was out at a scene. Anna left a message that she would be at the lab between eight-thirty and nine a.m. and needed to discuss the Joshua Reynolds suicide with him.

As usual there were no parking spaces to be had along Wardour Street, and so Anna resorted to the multi-storey car park in Poland Street. Walking through the neon alleyway of Walkers Court, once home of the infamous Raymond Revuebar strip club, Anna realized how little the area had changed over the years. It was still the heart of London’s adult entertainment industry with its sex shops and clip joints fleecing tourists who were looking for a ‘good time’. It struck Anna a lap-dancing club like the Trojan would fit in perfectly in the area and no doubt be a very profitable business.

There was no sign of Dewar as Anna reached the main entrance of the club, where large metal security gates in front of the doors were firmly closed and padlocked. Anna traced her way around to the rear-mews entrance, passing large industrial-waste bins filled with rubbish. She could see Dewar’s car parked in the mews with a police vehicle sign on the dashboard to ward away any passing traffic wardens, making her even more irritated that the agent had not waited for her at the front as they had agreed. She noticed a tall black man in his mid-fifties emerging from the open rear fire doors of the club. He was carrying two crates of empty bottles, which he stacked on others that were already outside the premises. He was wearing a dark blue zip-front boiler suit, which was paint-stained, a black wool hat and workman’s safety boots.

‘Hi, I’m looking for the lady who was driving that car,’ Anna said as she pointed.

He turned to her, his face shiny with sweat. ‘Is she the FBI lady who’s come to see Mr Williams?’ he asked.

‘That would be her,’ Anna said, thinking so much for Dewar’s idea of a discreet approach.

‘He’s on his way back from the wholesalers and said you’s to wait for him. His office is straight along the corridor through the doors to the dance area. Go across it to the “Staff Only” door then up the stairs, and his office is on the right.’

‘Thanks,’ Anna said.

‘I’d take you like I did the other lady but I gotta wait for the collections. Can’t leave the empties unattended out here cause the winos come and drink the dregs.’

The thought of the winos finishing the dregs made Anna’s stomach turn as she headed along the corridor, which smelled strongly of beer and wine, and into the main area of the club. It was dimly lit and her eyes took a few seconds to adjust. It was a large room with a number of supporting pillars. There was gilt everywhere, fringed red drapes on the walls and a raised circular stage, with lap-dancing poles in the middle. The stage itself was surrounded by bar stools allowing the clientele to get up close to the dancers. The thought of the place filled with sweaty groping men made Anna cringe.

On the far side of the room there was a door with a
VIP GUESTS ONLY
sign on it. As there was no one around, Anna opened the door to have a quick look inside, to discover it was lavishly furnished and had its own bar and private dance cubicles.

Anna thought the club felt dirty and seedy and as she went through the ‘Staff Only’ door, she wondered what on earth would attract someone to the premises. Upstairs she found Dewar sitting on a leather-backed chair in Marcus Williams’ office.

‘Thanks for waiting for me, Jessie.’

‘I didn’t have any choice. I parked up out the back and the next thing I knew this big black guy was telling me it was private parking. I had to tell him who I was and he called Williams, who told him to show me up here.’

The office was tidy, very elegant and well lit with recessed halogen ceiling lights. On one side were floor-to-ceiling mirrored-glass windows which gave a one-way view out onto the main floor and stage below. At the far end there were a large modern writing desk, desktop computer and leather-backed executive chair. Behind the desk was a sideboard, on top of which were crystal glasses and decanters filled with brandy and whisky. Above the sideboard, wine racks contained bottles of Dom Perignon, Krug and Cristal champagne. Beside the desk a row of two-drawer wooden filing cabinets were placed neatly along the wall; above them there were photographs of celebrities entering and leaving the club. Anna took a seat beside Dewar.

‘Nice place, isn’t it?’ Dewar remarked.

‘I find it seedy and hate the smell of stale alcohol,’ Anna said.

‘Ah, the rich and famous like to get down and dirty. They have topless waitresses, pole dancers and as we know from Taylor anything goes in the VIP rooms . . . if you’ve got the money. Sex, drugs and rock’n’roll. Haw-haw.’

‘I’m beginning to wish we’d asked Williams to come to the station,’ Anna groaned.

‘I got chatting with Curtis.’

‘Who’s Curtis?’

‘The black guy who showed me up here – he’s the general handyman. Worked here since it opened and knew Josh well. Be a good man to interview with when we have time.’

Anna got up from the chair to look over the array of photographs. She was amazed by the number of celebrities, both male and female, that frequented the club. A number of film and television stars and musicians were in the photographs with a handsome mixed-race man who she assumed to be Marcus Williams. There was one picture of Josh and the same man together standing outside the club under the neon Trojan sign. They were holding a jeroboam of champagne with filled glasses and toasting each other.

Anna was still examining the pictures when the door banged open, and both she and Dewar turned as the man in the picture with Josh walked in carrying a briefcase and a box of Cristal champagne, which he put down beside the desk.

‘Sorry to keep you waiting. I’m Marcus Williams, owner of the Trojan.’

He could have made a good entrance anywhere. He was at least six feet four, exceptionally handsome, with Afro hair braided and tied back with a black band. His skin was light brown, and he had very chiselled features and blue eyes. He was wearing a grey suit, white collarless shirt, and a cashmere navy coat.

Dewar smiled, stood up to shake his hand and introduced herself. He had long tapering manicured fingers, with a large gold ring on his left little finger. He turned to shake Anna’s hand as she walked over and introduced herself, then tossed his coat over the back of his executive chair before he sat down to face them. Anna explained that Special Agent Dewar was on attachment to the Metropolitan Police and working with her team.