The Fourth Cart Page 6

  Chapter Six

  It was barely nine-thirty in the morning when DCI Magee caught himself staring out his office window at Black Cap in the distance. It had become a ritual, his way of easing tension, coping with stress, the familiarity with the hills enabling him to imagine the views and the pleasure of filling his lungs with fresh air. It was one of the few benefits of working in the Sussex Police Headquarters building in Malling; the views were good, if you liked hills.

  After a few moments of bliss, he sat down and continued the task of wading through a variety of reports that had landed on his desk since the murder occurred two days beforehand. Most were exceedingly boring, many were full of technical jargon. As he reached for the dictionary for the twentieth time, he wondered if his colleagues deliberately chose obscure words to make him feel inadequate.

  Overall, he was disappointed with what he read. The reports revealed nothing he didn't know or suspect already. The only new information to emerge was that Mr Cracknell emphatically denied having engaged Paul Mansell to spy on his wife. It was an unfortunate inconsistency, but the truth couldn’t be proved either way. What he needed was a new angle.

  He rose, stretched his legs around the office for a few seconds, pulled back his office door and called out, ‘Melissa? Come in here a second will you please?’

  ‘Sure,’ came the reply.

  Magee sat back down as Melissa entered the room. He pointed to the array of files on his desk and said, ‘You’ve read all this lot, haven’t you? What’s your take on it?’

  ‘Can’t say, sir. Not enough to go on at the moment, I reckon.’

  ‘No clues, no motives and no witnesses. Except for Paul Mansell of course, but do we trust him? And what of his connection with Nick Price?’

  ‘Coincidence?’

  ‘I don’t believe in coincidence.’

  ‘Maybe just a red herring, then?’

  ‘I don’t like that idea either.’

  ‘So?’

  Magee swiveled his chair round and took a peek at the distant hills before replying, ‘I’m convinced Todd Conners knew his assailant. I’m sure that the two of them had been standing talking and that the attack came as a total surprise to Conners.’

  ‘What about the location? Odd place to choose for a talk isn’t it, by the side of his bed? Unless it was with a lover, of course.’

  Magee agreed. ‘Mrs Conners certainly implied that her husband had many affairs. But she also said they would have been undertaken in his office. And don’t forget he was going out for the evening. It seems unlikely that he would have a lover there, in his bedroom, at that particular time. Remember she said he’d only just shouted at her to get a move on.’

  ‘So you reckon the assailant just walks into the house at eight o'clock and up to Conners' bedroom without being detected. Then, after no more than, say, a couple of minutes conversation, kills him and walks out, unnoticed, and without leaving a trace?’

  ‘Yes,’ Magee responded. ‘I suppose so.’

  ‘Paul Mansell, then. He was the only one that could have done it.’

  Magee grimaced; he had already been down that line of reasoning. ‘No, Melissa. I’ve decided to give Mansell the benefit of the doubt for now. His account matches the statements of the Cracknell family far too well. He couldn’t possibly have known some of the things described in his testimony if he’d been inside the Conners’ house instead.’

  ‘Yes. There is that, but . . .’

  ‘But, Melissa, I want to keep an open mind. I still need to establish the significance of the Buddha effigy on the dagger, if it has any that is.’

  ‘Do you want me to check with . . .’ but Melissa was interrupted by the ringing of Magee’s telephone.

  Magee lifted the receiver, only to hear a voice say, ‘I’ve got the Home Secretary on the line for you, sir.’

  Magee recognized the voice as being that of DC Deborah Collins, but was otherwise dumbfounded. ‘I beg your pardon, Debs?’

  ‘I said, sir, that I have Mr Geoffrey Rees Smith, the Home Secretary, on the line for you, personally.’

  ‘That's what I thought you said.’ Magee took a moment to compose himself. ‘Well, you'd better put him through then, I suppose.’ He covered the mouthpiece and said, ‘Sorry, Melissa, this sounds important. It’s the Home Secretary apparently.’

  Whilst Melissa withdrew from the room, Magee sat upright and took a deep breath. ‘Good morning, sir. This is Detective Chief Inspector Jack Magee, how may I help you?’

  ‘Good morning, Chief Inspector.’ The Home Secretary’s voice was saccharine, causing Magee to take an instant dislike to the man. ‘A local news item caught my attention last night, concerning the murder of a Brighton councillor. I understand he was murdered in his own home, in his bedroom of all places, and I gather that you are leading the investigation. Is that right?’

  Magee scratched the back of his head in puzzlement. ‘That is quite correct, sir.’

  ‘May I ask how the investigation is going?’

  ‘Slowly, sir. It's far too early to comment on it yet. I’m still collating reports.’

  ‘No indication of the murderer's identity then?’

  ‘None at all, sir. It was a very professional job.’

  ‘Professional? You mean it was a hit man?’

  ‘Not necessarily, sir, although it could have been. I really meant that it was well planned and well carried out. The murderer seems to have left no trace, no fingerprints, nothing that could help us to identify him.’

  ‘What about that man you apprehended at the scene? The one that ran out of the house and was tackled to the ground. I saw that escapade on television.’

  Magee’s head sunk, briefly, despairing of the direction the conversation seemed to be heading. ‘I let him go, sir.’

  ‘For god's sake, why?’

  Magee bit his lip and waited for a surge of irritation to pass before venturing to answer, ‘Because I believe him to be innocent, sir.’

  ‘Then why did you arrest him in the first place?’

  ‘Suspicion, sir. He’d been surveying a neighbour’s house during the evening. But it turned out he was just a private investigator on a case.’

  ‘And he didn't see anything?’

  ‘That's right, sir. He saw nothing of the murder or murderer; he was round the back of the victim’s house at the precise time of the incident.’

  ‘What was that man's name, Chief Inspector?’

  ‘Mansell, sir, Paul Mansell.’ The telephone fell silent. For a moment, he thought the line had been severed. ‘Sir? Are you still there, sir?’

  ‘Yes, sorry,’ Rees Smith mumbled, ‘my secretary interrupted me. How old is this Paul Mansell?’

  ‘About twenty five, I believe.’

  ‘So this Paul Mansell character is now roaming free?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ Magee was seething. The Home Secretary’s tone was bordering on ridicule.

  ‘Well, I hope for your sake he’s innocent!’

  Magee jerked the phone away from his head as the outburst left his ears ringing. He waited a few seconds before replying, ‘I certainly believe he is, sir.’

  There was another long pause. Magee remained quiet, assuming the Home Secretary was collecting his thoughts.

  ‘I apologize for being tetchy, Chief Inspector, the burdens of this office can make me snappy at times.’

  ‘I’m sure they can, sir.’

  ‘Look, Chief Inspector, the reason I called was to inform you that I'm taking a special interest in this case. It's just the sort of thing that the public are very worried about, they want to know that they are safe in their own houses. This sort of affair makes them very concerned indeed. It's very disturbing for little old ladies in particular. At the last election we pledged to increase resources to combat crimes just like this. Unfortunately, resources mean cash and that means a larger share of the tax burden. To justify the increased cost we need to show better results. I'm using this murder as a test case for our e
lectors' attitudes. I want to see positive steps taken and a quick solution found to this case. I shall be taking confidential opinion polls to find out the public’s attitude as the case progresses. Therefore, I would like to be kept informed of all matters relevant to the case. I want copies of all reports and interviews to be sent direct to me please, marked “Urgent and Confidential”. I’ll make sure the copies sent to me will be destroyed later. Don't get my intentions wrong, Chief Inspector, I have no wish to interfere with your case and I will not censure any interviews you wish to conduct with the press. Do you understand my request?’

  Magee responded sharply, ‘Yes, sir.’ He understood his situation perfectly. His head had just been placed on a chopping block. The public was his jury, the Home Secretary his executioner.

  ‘Thank you, Chief Inspector. I want to be able to assure the public that we have things under control. I know it sounds patronizing, but we can't have our voters, I mean the British public, worrying about sleeping safely in their beds, now, can we?’

  ‘No, sir, we can’t have that, can we.’ Magee’s hands were shaking, he felt he could scream.

  ‘Well, as I said, Chief Inspector, keep me informed. Hope you succeed quickly. Goodbye for now.’

  Magee replied, ‘Goodbye, sir,’ through gritted teeth, only just managing not to snarl. He slammed the receiver down and swore, ‘Shit!’

  Most of the staff in the open plan office turned in the direction of Magee’s room. It wasn’t often that they heard someone lose their cool quite so loudly.

  ‘What the bloody hell does he think he's playing at! Bloody politicians! That's all I sodding well need.’ Without rising from his chair he yelled out, ‘Debs!’

  Seconds later, DC Collins poked her head around Magee's office door and said, ‘You shouted for me, sir?’

  ‘A copy of all this crap for His Highness the Home Bloody Secretary, please!’

  DC Collins stood resolute by the door.

  Magee looked into her burning eyes and regretted raising his voice. He sighed and looked at her sheepishly. ‘I'm sorry, Debs, I didn't mean to shout at you. That bloody man just got to me rather badly, that's all.’

  ‘So we all gather, sir,’ replied DC Collins. A mere flicker of a smile appeared on her lips. She gathered up the pile of reports whilst Magee sat quietly trying to regain his composure. As she was leaving the office, Melissa stepped in, a newspaper in hand.

  ‘I take it that conversation didn’t go well, sir.’

  ‘You noticed.’

  ‘I think the whole building did.’

  Magee rubbed his chin. ‘Rees Smith wants to be kept informed of the case. He wants copies of all the reports.’

  ‘Isn’t that unusual, sir?’

  Magee crossed his arms and replied, ‘’I’m not sure. I suppose it’s within his domain, being Home Secretary. He gave me some political claptrap about it being a test case for voters’ satisfaction with the Government’s latest crackdown on crime.’

  ‘But you don’t believe him?’

  ‘I don’t know. I’ve no reason to doubt him. Although it does seem rather odd. I suppose I should check it out with Superintendent Vaughan.’ He caught DS Kelley’s eye and asked, ‘Why are you smirking?’

  Melissa stepped closer to Magee’s desk and placed the newspaper down. ‘Last Friday’s Sussex Express, sir. Didn’t you read it?’

  Magee shook his head. ‘Can’t say I did. My thoughts were elsewhere over the weekend, I didn’t get an opportunity to read it. Why? Have I missed something?’

  ‘In light of that phone call, well, maybe.’

  Magee pulled the paper closer. Towards the bottom of the front page ran the caption “Local entrepreneur unveils city redevelopment project”. He skimmed through the story and turned to the inside front page for the continuation. To his astonishment, there lay a picture of Nick Price standing behind a scale model of his latest project. And standing alongside Nick Price was Geoffrey Rees Smith. Magee’s jaw dropped. ‘What the hell is going on here?’