Death in July Read online

  'Isn't there anything from his younger days?' asked Sam. 'From before he got married?'

  'This is all we have,' replied the clerk, collecting the articles up. 'I must say, this Mr Compton seems to be very popular since he died.'

  Sam was puzzled by the cryptic comment.

  'What do you mean?'

  'Well, you're the second person to ask about him today. That's why I remembered his name when you came in.'

  'What did the other person want?'

  The clerk placed the newspaper articles back in a box, closed the lid and crossed his arms in an effeminate way. He gave Sam a searching look.

  'That's the strange thing,' he said breathlessly. 'You want to know all about Mr Compton's life, whereas this man was only interested in his death.'

  'In what way?'

  'The date he died...when he was going to be buried...'

  Sam had a good idea who was asking the questions. What he needed was a good description.

  ***

  'Tall. Big. Muscular. Very muscular...'

  Sam encouraged the clerk to concentrate.

  'A black woolly hat. Indoors...in the middle of summer? Very strange. As was the obsession with black clothes. Shoes. Jeans. Jumper. Jacket. The man must be melting in this heat.'

  Sam dropped another gentle reminder to stay on-topic.

  'Thirties, perhaps. Hard to tell. Strong jaw. Good teeth. Blue eyes. Slight stubble. Strands of blonde hair peeking out from under the hat.'

  Sam told the clerk he was most observant and thanked him for his help.

  ***

  Sam relaxed on a bench overlooking the Haymarsh Hotel. It was one of the finer establishments in Newgate. A doorman stood on the red carpeted steps, waiting patiently for customers to ferry inside. The hotel's car park was full of high-end motors, each one painstakingly manoeuvred into its allotted space by a member of staff. Arnold had clearly decided on the good life for the remainder of his stay.

  Sam spotted him walking towards the hotel, distracted, head down, fiddling with his phone. Sam got up and made his way over to the hotel entrance. Arnold hadn't noticed him yet. Sam started walking towards him, accentuating his limp.

  'Arnold!' he called out.

  Arnold looked up in surprise. He raised a hand in Sam's direction.

  'Hey, Sam. How are-'

  He hesitated when he saw Sam's lop-sided walk.

  'What have you done?' he asked.

  Sam grinned sheepishly.

  'Shut my leg in the car door, didn't I?'

  Arnold raised his eyebrows. A bemused smile played around the corners of his mouth. Sam studied the reaction. It looked natural enough.

  'I called on your brother earlier...'

  Arnold's face dropped.

  'Did he tell you I've moved out?'

  Sam nodded.

  'He's decided we should stop investigating your father's death.'

  'Why?'

  Sam was struck by the innocence of the question.

  'I think he took on board what you said to him last night.'

  'Last night?'

  'Yeah, about letting go and moving on. About the way he's making a fool of himself over all-'

  'I didn't say any of that last night,' protested Arnold. 'Yes, the atmosphere at the bungalow had got too heavy for me. I told Benny I needed space, but that was all I said-'

  Arnold stopped and gave Sam a bewildered look.

  'Hold on. Are you saying he's done this because of me?'

  'That's how he made it sound,' nodded Sam.

  Arnold shook his head earnestly.

  'No way, Sam. I'd already had my say, and I wasn't going to waste my breath repeating myself. Anyway, my brother's never let me persuade him to do anything in his life. When he was eighteen, I used to try and get him to leave home, but he wouldn't listen. He wouldn't even entertain the idea. He saw it as being disloyal to our parents, despite everything-'

  Sam's phone began to ring. It was Moira, sounding urgent and breathless.

  'Sam, somebody's trying to break into the apartment.'

  He could hear fear in her voice. She was trying to control it.

  'Are you inside?' he asked. 'Is Alice with you?'

  'We're in the living room. There's no way we can get out.'

  The line crackled with tension.

  'Call the police. I'm on my way.'

  'I have...they're coming. I just don't know how long they're going to be-'

  The line went dead.

  Chapter 13

  It took Sam ten minutes in the busy traffic. Two police cars were already there when he arrived, parked askew in front of the low-rise apartment block. A policeman was standing rigid on the steps, watching him pull up with interest. With his heart racing, Sam got out and approached him.

  'Who are you, Sir?' asked the officer.

  'Sam Carlisle. I'm a-'

  The officer smiled grimly.

  'Mr Carlisle, please follow me.'

  Sam was led up to the second floor and Moira's apartment. The door was open and Sam could hear voices inside. He saw clear signs of damage to the door frame and the door itself, just above the handle. Sam grimaced at the sight. Somebody had given the door a good go. The policeman entered the apartment first, striding forcefully down Moira's hallway. Sam saw that as a good sign. No pussyfooting around the scene usually meant no casualties.

  Sam's reluctant hopes were confirmed when he saw Moira and Alice very much alive and well in the living-room. They were sat together, holding hands, shaken but unharmed. Alice saw him first.

  'Sam!'

  She ran to him and flung her arms around his neck. He held her as she gripped him tight.

  'Sam, it was horrible!' she exclaimed, her face buried in his chest, her voice muffled. 'We thought he was going to get in...'

  Sam exchanged looks with Moira, who remained seated, her face taut with concern, her expression stony and apprehensive. The serious look in her eyes told Sam everything.

  Two other policemen were present in the room, waiting patiently over by the far wall. Sam recognised the uniformed officer as the taller of the two who had inspected Geoffrey's property. He gave Sam a perfunctory nod. The plain clothes officer introduced himself as Detective Inspector Jackson. Sam took in the nondescript appearance. Medium height. Medium build. Mousey hair, parted to one side. Small eyes and a faint moustache on an unremarkable face. DI Jackson took a small step nearer Sam.

  'Mr Carlisle, I believe.'

  'That's right,' said Sam. 'What happened?'

  Jackson gave him a thorough look.

  'Someone tried to gain entry via Miss Kennedy's front door. A neighbour in the above flat heard the women screaming and came out of his flat to investigate. As he started down the stairway, he heard someone run off...'

  Apparently, Moira had dropped her phone in fright during the commotion, breaking it in the process. That had been Sam's biggest cause for concern during the dash over here, the sudden ending of the call. He was struck by a sudden sense of deja-vu.

  Two different properties.

  Two intruders.

  Both fleeing the scene.

  'What have you got so far?' he asked, hearing more policemen out on the stairs, their calls to each other echoing off the surrounding walls. Sam was impressed. The detective had already got his men searching the building for clues.

  Jackson stroked his chin.

  'Well, no witnesses, I'm afraid. Nobody got a look at the perpetrator. Nobody heard his voice, either. He didn't shout or speak through the letterbox. There's substantial damage to the door as you probably noticed-'

  'Crowbar?' suggested Sam.

  'Or something very similar,' nodded Jackson. 'We're checking for prints, knocking on doors. Mrs Brown has explained the situation about her husband-'

  'Soon to be ex-husband,' spat Alice defiantly.

  'Quite. We're trying to locate him as we speak. If he's in Newgate, we'll find him.'

  Moira suddenly piped up. She had been uncannily q
uiet so far. Now, her face was flushed with indignation.

  'What do you mean, if he's in Newgate? Of course he's in blooming Newgate. Who else do you think was trying to get in here?'

  Jackson gave her his best smile.

  'Miss Kennedy, Richard Brown is an individual we urgently need to talk to about today's incident. But, until he is located and questioned, we have to keep all our options open. In the meantime, I'd like you to have a think about what we discussed. So, if there's nothing else...'

  Sam saw the police out onto the stairs. The tall officer continued down the steps, leaving Sam alone with DI Jackson.

  'What do you reckon?' asked Sam, keeping his voice down.

  The detective thrust his hands deep into his pockets.

  'The ex is our man, I'm certain of it. He's been stewing for a long time, then suddenly...snap! We'll get him. He can't have gone too far.'

  Sam nodded and took a step back to the doorway. He wanted to spend time with Moira and Alice now. However, Jackson looked in no rush to go anywhere just yet.

  'My colleague tells me he bumped into you on another case recently.'

  'That's right,' replied Sam. 'I'm a private investigator. I was there on a job.'

  'Ah, so you are the Sam Carlisle we've heard about. You're-'

  Sam interrupted him.

  'Detective?' he said, raising his eyebrows. 'Please, leave it out.'

  Jackson scrutinised Sam closely.

  'Fair enough,' he shrugged easily. 'So, what's the case you're working on?'

  Sam sighed.

  'Geoffrey Compton. His father asked me to look into his death.'

  Jackson thought about it.

  'Compton? I know that name...'

  Sam shuffled his feet.

  'Look, Detective, I'd better get back-'

  Realisation dawned on Jackson's face.

  'Ah, I remember now. We investigated an assault on him.'

  Sam perked up.

  'That's right,' continued Jackson. 'We were given a description of a man running away from the scene, but we never tracked him down.'

  A description? Sam was taken aback.

  'I was told you had nothing to go on.'

  'We didn't have anything...not until a week later when a homeless guy came into the station claiming he had information. He wasn't the most reliable witness. We reckoned he was just looking for a back-hander, but we still had to act on what he gave us.'

  'And what did he give you?' asked Sam.

  The description Jackson gave to Sam was similar to the one given by the newspaper clerk. Sam continued to listen in disbelief.

  'We spent the next week looking for a bloke fitting that description. When nothing came up, we had to presume our witness had been imagining things.'

  'But what if he hadn't imagined it?' asked Sam. 'What if he really had seen the man who attacked Geoffrey Compton?'

  Jackson had started down the stairs. Now it was the detective who looked eager to get away. He turned and gave Sam an intense look.

  'We turned Newgate and the surrounding areas upside down during those few days. If such a man ever existed, I can guarantee he was far away by the time we looked for him.'

  ***

  Sam returned inside to find Moira and Alice talking quietly. They stopped and watched him as he sighed and sank into a chair.

  'Are you two okay?' he asked them.

  They nodded in duplicate fashion, slowly and reluctantly.

  'You're both still in shock,' he said, rising from his chair. 'I'll make you a-'

  'Sam, please sit down,' instructed Moira. 'This is one instance where tea won't make things better. We need to talk.'

  Sam settled back into the chair. It was rare to hear Moira use such a serious and authoritative tone. Her expression was one of equal determination.

  'We've been talking about Detective Jackson's proposal. He suggests we continue to live here, with a plain-clothes officer parked outside.'

  'Well, that's an option,' nodded Sam. 'It'll be round-the-clock security for you.'

  Both women shook their heads.

  'We don't want to stay here,' said Alice. 'Not while Richard is on the loose. Not now he knows where I am. We wouldn't feel safe.'

  Sam noticed Moira nod along. The two women had made their minds up.

  'So, what are you going to do?'

  'We're thinking of a hotel for now,' said Moira. 'Or even a simple B&B...anywhere, as long as it's away from here.'

  Sam watched her shiver involuntarily. He had an idea.

  'You could always squeeze into my flat for now. I could sleep in the office, and it'll be close to work for both-'

  Sam stopped, aghast at what he saying. What was he thinking? Here he was, trying to track down the psychopath who had assaulted Geoffrey, the man who had broken into his cottage and then tried to run Sam over. Outside Sam's front door as well, which meant the mystery man probably knew where he lived. Sam had another thought. A more sinister one. His man could be sizing up a second bite of the cherry right now.

  The women didn't need that. Who did? Moira and Alice had just escaped one encounter with a raving lunatic. They didn't need dragging into another dangerous situation. No, they needed somewhere safe and secure. Friendly and close to work would be a bonus.

  Of course.

  Sam got on the phone.

  ***

  Archie opened the door and waved them all into the Barton.

  'Welcome! Come on through!'

  'Don't you get any ideas, Archie Curran,' said Moira, her mouth curled up in a smile.

  Alice turned and gave Sam a bemused look.

  'Archie's got a soft spot for your aunt,' he explained. 'Don't worry, she knows how to keep him in line.'

  'She does that,' said Archie dolefully. 'More's the pity.'

  They all laughed.

  'Come here, you big lump,' grinned Moira, giving Archie a hug. 'Thank-you for doing this, Arch. We're hoping it won't be for long.'

  Archie patted her on the back.

  'As long as you need, dear. All I ask is you and Alice make yourselves at home for the duration.'

  Archie had been more than pleased to help out when Sam rang him. Sam had waited until darkness before picking the women up from the apartment, constantly checking his mirrors on the drive over to the pub. As an extra precaution, DI Jackson had left an officer outside the apartment to watch over them as they departed.

  Nobody followed them.

  Chapter 14

  Sam jumped over the fence and landed on the grass with a dull thud, sending red-hot waves of pain up through his thigh. He gritted his teeth and waited on his haunches, letting the pain subside, allowing himself time to take in his new surroundings. After a few minutes, he hobbled up the garden, keeping as low as possible. Reaching the bungalow, he pressed his back into the wall, ignoring the harsh pebbledash poking into him. After a customary glance into the gardens on either side, he stepped back and looked at the kitchen window. Thankfully, it was open, just as it had been on his last two visits to the property. Sam tutted and shook his head. Benjamin was going to get burgled one day if he kept leaving his window open like this.

  Sam climbed through carefully, ensuring he didn't catch his leg on the frame, before lowering himself gently onto the kitchen floor. The entire bungalow was shrouded in darkness. Benjamin had mentioned in passing he was visiting a friend tonight. Sam hoped he was in no mood to rush back. He was already running late after today's events with Moira and Alice. Extracting a thin flash-light from his pocket, he flicked it on and set off around the bungalow. He didn't know what he was looking for, only that there was something wrong with Benjamin's decision to drop the case. Arnold's bemusement only backed up that suspicion.

  Sam moved silently from room to room, ignoring the niggling feeling of immorality at what he was doing. He whipped out his camera, a slim, digital affair, able to zoom in and out, capable of taking pictures in any light. His one concession to modern technology. Taking care not to leave an
y evidence of his presence, Sam photographed every document he came across relating to Geoffrey, from scribbled notes on the phone pad to official-looking property deeds. He simply didn't have time to rifle through everything and make notes. Fortunately, Benjamin was an organised man when it came to his paperwork. Most of it was neatly housed in clearly marked folders, making life easier for Sam.

  Eventually, he was done. With his eyes starting to tire, he put the final document back in its place and prepared to leave. He wanted to get back to the flat and study his findings immediately.

  A noise sounded from outside the house. Sam moved to the window and looked out. To his horror, Benjamin was coming up the path. Sam swore under his breath, guessing Benjamin must have parked farther down the road. Sam's instinct was to dart back into the kitchen, but when he heard the key slot home in the door, he knew he didn't stand a chance. As soon as he stepped out the front room, Benjamin would see him in the hallway. Bump into him, most likely. Sam slipped the camera into his pocket and waited in the darkness, resigned to his fate.

  This was going to look really bad.

  At the same time the front door opened, a phone started ringing. A mobile phone. Sam heard Benjamin sigh, shut the door behind him and answer the call.

  'Yes?'

  It was a tired greeting. Sam listened, frozen to the spot.

  'Yes, it's all been dealt with. The investigation has been called off. There is nothing for you to-'

  Another sigh. Deeper.

  Suddenly, Benjamin was on the move again. Sam saw his dark frame pass the front room and continue into the kitchen. Sam nearly jumped for joy when he heard the back door being unlocked. Benjamin was going straight into the garden to continue the conversation. Sam went to the doorway and peered around it. Benjamin was strolling down the garden, talking into the phone, out of earshot now. Sam didn't hang around. He sneaked to the front door, gently pulled it open and took one final glance back. Benjamin was still facing away from the house. Sam stepped out the front and quietly pulled the door shut behind him. Breathing a huge sigh of relief, he walked up the path as naturally as he could.