Fatal Love Read online

  ‘That’s a good idea,’ she answered. ‘If we left now, we’d only get stuck in the traffic.’

  Tom, so far, hadn’t said a word, as the conversation happened around him. ‘That seems to be agreed, then,’ he said now. ‘It looks like we have been given approval to go to the bar. It would be rude not to do so.’ He laughed.

  Mary gave him a fleeting smile, before taking Emily’s hand and, along with Kerry and Sam, heading towards the hotel lift, leaving Tom and Paul in the reception area.

  ‘I assume that was planned,’ said Tom.

  This time it was Paul’s turn to laugh. ‘Well, yes, we did speak about it as a possibility.’

  ‘Anyway, whoever’s idea it was, it was a good one.’

  They both walked towards the bar, which, at this early time of the evening, was almost deserted.

  ‘What’s your poison?’ asked Paul.

  ‘I’ll get these,’ Tom replied.

  ‘I’ll get them. It’s the least a son can do for his dad.’

  Tom found himself moved. ‘Thank you for saying that. I never thought I’d hear those words said to me.’

  Paul suddenly moved forward and hugged him. ‘And I never thought I’d get the chance to say them to you.’

  It was, without a doubt, the most emotional Tom had felt for a very long time, and he was surprised by just how difficult he was finding it to keep those emotions in check.

  ‘Let’s get a drink,’ said Paul, recognising the suddenly dramatically heightened emotion of the moment. ‘What do you suggest?’

  Tom looked at the selection of draught lagers and beers at the bar. ‘Normally I would have a red wine, but I think this time I’ll have this one,’ he said, pointing at one of the beers.

  ‘I’ll have the same, then,’ Paul said, before ordering them.

  The barman poured their drinks and they took them to a corner of the bar area where, even if more people suddenly arrived, they were guaranteed some privacy.

  ‘I really enjoyed today,’ said Tom, once they were seated. ‘I have to be honest, though: walking around the middle of London would not normally be my preferred way to spend an afternoon. In fact, I can’t remember the last time I actually did that. But, then again, I’ve never done it with you and your family.’

  ‘I couldn’t help noticing, though, that you were walking slightly uncomfortably, especially later in the day,’ Paul said. ‘Just to let you know, I did ask Mary about it.’

  Tom suddenly sat up straight. ‘And what did she say?’ he asked, with a degree of sudden defensiveness.

  ‘She told me how you’d been shot in your right leg, not that long ago, and that it was still affecting you.’

  ‘Well, yes, it’s still a bit sore, but it’s a lot better than it was and it’s getting better every day.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

  ‘It’s not something I now regularly think about. As I said, it’s a lot better than it was.’

  Paul, sensing that this was a subject that Tom didn’t want to discuss, paused briefly before he next spoke, this time in a tone that lightened the mood. ‘Sam would have been really impressed. I think you missed a trick there.’

  ‘Maybe next time, then,’ replied Tom, with a small smile.

  Both Paul and Tom took a sip of their beer.

  ‘Why did you and Mum split up?’ Paul suddenly asked, quickly bringing Tom back to reality. It was a question – perhaps, the question – that Paul had every right to ask and Tom had been expecting. Nonetheless, the suddenness of it still took him by surprise.

  ‘It’s a question I have asked myself many times over the years,’ he replied. ‘I think – no, I’m sure – it was because I put my career ahead of my family. It’s certainly not an excuse, but being a young policeman trying to make his mark in the force, and especially back in the eighties, was all-consuming. With hindsight, of course, it’s easy to see, but at the time you just seemed to get caught up in it all. The job controlled you. You were often judged by the number of hours you put in rather than the quality of those hours or even, sometimes, the results you achieved. I remember working a crazy number of hours when, in truth, I really didn’t need to. But you ran the risk of being seen as some sort of lightweight if you left at anything like a normal time.’ He fell silent for a moment, before adding, ‘But, as I said, it’s not meant as an excuse. At the end of the day, it was my decision. It’s not something I’m proud of.’

  ‘How did Mum react to that?’

  ‘At the beginning, she seemed to accept it as part and parcel of being a police officer, but later, especially when she became pregnant and then you were born, it became more of an issue. After that, things between us deteriorated rapidly. When she told me she was leaving, to be honest, I wasn’t that upset. Perhaps if I had then shown more commitment to our marriage, things might have worked out differently and you’d be speaking with an English accent, not an Aussie one.’

  ‘Except, of course, I wouldn’t have met Kerry and had Sam and Emily.’

  ‘That’s very true,’ replied Tom. Sensing that now might be a good time to ask some of the questions he was interested in, he said, ‘Jack seems a really good man. Sam and Emily obviously love him a lot.’

  ‘Yes, he is. Jack and Mum were so happy together. When they married, I was about five years old, but, right from the start, he treated me as his own son, and, over time, I came to see him as my own father.’ He hesitated. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘You don’t need to be sorry about anything,’ answered Tom. ‘In fact, I wish I could, one day, meet him so that I could personally thank him for raising such an impressive son.’

  Paul, not feeling able to respond to Tom’s compliment, said, ‘He was an absolute rock when Mum got ill and it broke his heart when she died, and I’m not sure he’ll ever get over it. Fortunately, though, the kids have helped to fill the void, at least partly.’

  ‘How did he feel about you all coming over here to meet me?’

  ‘He was fine about it. No problem at all. In fact, he encouraged us to do it. But what about you?’ he asked. ‘Did you ever think about getting married again? Before Mary, I mean?’

  ‘Not really. I had a couple of semi-serious relationships, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to put any marriage ahead of my career. I know that sounds incredibly selfish – and, of course, it is selfish – but that’s how I felt at the time. As the years went by, I suppose I became too set in my ways and marriage became an even more unlikely prospect.’

  ‘So, how did you get together with Mary? What changed?’

  ‘That’s what I often ask myself,’ he said, laughing. ‘You might find this hard to believe, after what I just told you, but we met via an internet dating site. It was actually called, er, You’re Never Too Old for Love . . . and, as the name suggests, was aimed at . . . well, let’s say the older generation.’

  ‘You’re joking,’ Paul replied, matching Tom’s earlier laughter. ‘Somehow I can’t see you being on a dating site.’

  ‘I did say you might find it hard to believe. It was at a time when my career was at, probably, its lowest point and I was seriously thinking of taking early retirement. Anyway, I think it must have affected my brain because, one night, I suppose when I was going through one of my self-pitying moments, I suddenly decided to sign up.’

  ‘And that’s when you met Mary?’

  ‘Well, not initially, but, eventually, yes.’

  ‘So, Mary wasn’t your first choice?’ Paul asked.

  ‘Well, she wasn’t my first date, but she was certainly my first choice,’ he replied.

  ‘Good answer,’ Paul said. ‘She seems a really nice lady.’

  ‘She is. As I said, I was at my lowest point when I met her. It’s not an exaggeration to say that, since we met, my life – personally and professionally – has changed for the better. I’m a very lucky man.’

  ‘And you think you will get married?’

  ‘I think so,’ he replied, before correcting himself. ‘I ho
pe so.’

  ‘Well, good luck with whatever you two decide to do.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Tom said, before changing the subject. ‘Apart from work, what other interests do you have? Don’t all Aussies spend all their time outdoors, or is that just a myth?’

  ‘It’s definitely true that our weather encourages you to go outdoors, although sometimes it’s just too hot. I play golf, and we usually smother ourselves in the highest factor sun protector. Plus I always have to wear a cap.’ He gestured to his bald head.

  ‘So you play golf?’ asked Tom, immediately recalling the circumstances of the current investigation.

  ‘I do, yes. In fact, Sam is now getting interested in it as well. I’m really looking forward to the time when we can play together. What about you? Do you play?’

  ‘I don’t, I’m afraid. I think I’d only be any good as your caddy.’

  ‘That’s agreed, then. If we can ever arrange it, you can push my golf trolley for me.’

  Just then, Kerry walked into the bar with Mary in tow. ‘The kids are settled now and so I thought I’d come down, while I’ve got a couple of minutes, to see you before you leave.’

  ‘I mentioned to Kerry,’ said Mary, looking at Tom, ‘that, if they wanted to, they could come over to our house tomorrow. I said, if they got the train to Egham, I could collect them at the station. Then you could show them where Paul used to live.’

  Tom, recognising that Mary was looking for his agreement, was happy to oblige. ‘That’s a good idea. Just let us know when you’ve set off.’

  A short while later Tom and Mary were driving back home. Mary had clearly been itching to ask the obvious question but had, to now, resisted. Finally, though, she said, ‘So, how did it go with Paul?’

  ‘Much better than I dared to think,’ he replied.

  ‘And what did you talk about?’

  ‘We did discuss why Anne and I divorced, although, to be fair, it wasn’t something which dominated the entire time. He was interested in my time in the force, where we met and if we were planning to get married.’

  ‘And what did you say?’ she asked. ‘About getting married, I mean.’

  ‘I said that I hoped we would.’

  Mary squeezed his hand. ‘I’m so glad it went well for you,’ she said.

  So was he. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d enjoyed being in the company of a group of people so much, as normally he much preferred his own company.

  That night, as he lay in bed, despite being quite physically tired, he was finding it difficult to sleep. His mind was still buzzing with the events of the day, not aided by the fact he couldn’t help trying to go over his conversation with Paul verbatim. So much had happened, during the day, that he was struggling to remember everything which had occurred. Soon, though, he would recall something which would have a direct bearing on the investigation into Glyn Burton’s murder.

  Chapter 37

  ‘Thank you for coming in,’ said Milner. ‘Especially as it was at such short notice.’

  ‘It was made clear to me that I didn’t really have a choice,’ Mr Blackwell said, looking towards DC Bennett. ‘This is now the fourth time I’ve spoken with the police. What is it you want to talk about this time?’

  ‘Mr Blackwell. The last time my colleagues DCI Stone and DC Bennett spoke with you, they asked where you had been between 3 pm and 8 pm on the day Mr Burton disappeared. I understand, at the time, you couldn’t remember. You’ve now had the chance to remember. So perhaps you could now tell us?’

  ‘As I told your colleagues at the time, I couldn’t exactly remember because it was over two weeks earlier.’

  DC Bennett interrupted him. ‘Actually, what you said was that you couldn’t remember at all. You did not say you could-n’t exactly remember. That would have been a perfectly understandable answer. But you didn’t say that.’

  ‘Exactly or not exactly, at the time I couldn’t immediately remember. Is that okay for you?’ he asked, directing his question towards DC Bennett.

  DC Bennett didn’t respond and it was Milner who, again, took up the questioning. ‘So, can you remember now?’

  ‘I went back into the office around three thirty and was there for a few hours. I can’t remember exactly how long, but I think I got home just after seven. If you speak to my wife, she will confirm that.’

  ‘We will speak to her. Thanks for your suggestion,’ said DC Bennett, in his most sarcastic tone.

  ‘What were you doing in the office on a Sunday afternoon?’ Milner asked. ‘Do you often go in then?’

  ‘Sometimes,’ he answered. ‘It depends on what I have to do. On this particular Sunday I had to finish a presentation. I told you that’s why Glyn called me. We were pitching for some new business and Glyn wanted to discuss what progress I was making. Although it was my role to find new clients, he wanted to get an update from me.’

  ‘Who was the prospective client?’ asked Milner.

  ‘I’ve provided the information to you already,’ Mr Blackwell replied, making his annoyance clear.

  ‘It would help if you could let me know, though,’ suggested Milner.

  ‘His name is James Wilton. He’s a broker who has quite a large client list. We have been trying to get his business for some time.’

  ‘So, when was the presentation?’

  ‘It was the following day, on the Monday afternoon, at our offices. Glyn was due to attend but, of course, didn’t.’

  ‘You must have been concerned that he didn’t attend, especially as it was such an important meeting,’ suggested Milner.

  ‘I would say surprised more than concerned,’ he answered. ‘I was the one who was presenting, so it wasn’t really a problem Glyn wasn’t there.’

  ‘Why, then, were you surprised?’

  ‘Mainly because, when we’d spoken the day before, Glyn gave every impression that he would be there. And, anyway, James Wilton was someone who could bring us more business.’

  ‘I assume, later, you called Mr Burton to tell him how the meeting went.’

  ‘Of course I did,’ he answered. ‘But his phone seemed to be dead.’

  ‘Did you then try his home number?’

  ‘No, I didn’t.’

  ‘Why not? Surely that would have been the logical thing to do. After all, by your own admission, Mr Burton had taken a keen interest in the presentation to Mr Wilton. He would at least have wanted to know how it went.’

  He didn’t immediately reply, and when he did it was in a significantly quieter tone. ‘I thought he might have been with Mrs Mercer.’

  ‘And, if he was, you didn’t want to raise Mrs Burton’s suspicions. Is that right?’ asked Milner.

  ‘Yes, that’s right,’ he simply replied.

  Another brief silence followed.

  ‘So,’ said DC Bennett. ‘Just to be clear. You went into your office at about three thirty, stayed there for a few hours and then left for home, arriving back around seven. And you didn’t go anywhere else during that time?’

  ‘I’ve told you where I was,’ he answered, in a tone which now suggested his rising annoyance. ‘How many more times do I need to tell you?’

  ‘Thank you. That’s clear,’ said Milner, aware of the sudden increased tension. ‘Could I just ask if you called anyone, or anyone called you, whilst you were away from your home on that Sunday afternoon?’

  There was a slight hesitation before he answered. ‘I think I might have called Susie, my wife, to let her know what time I would be home.’

  ‘And that’s all?’ Milner asked.

  ‘I think so,’ he replied, before adding, ‘Yes, I’m sure.’

  ‘One final question, Mr Blackwell,’ said Milner. ‘Do you have any idea who would want to murder Mr Burton?’

  ‘As I’ve said before, I have absolutely no idea.’

  ‘Thank you again, Mr Blackwell, for coming in. If you do think of anything else which you feel might be important to our investigation, please contact us. I believe y
ou have my colleagues’ contact details already, but here are mine,’ said Milner, handing him his card.

  ‘Is that all?’ he replied, either surprised or relieved that their discussion had finished.

  ‘That’s all,’ said Milner, ‘although it’s always possible we will want to have a discussion with you again.’

  For a brief moment it looked as though Mr Blackwell was about to say something else. When he didn’t, Milner said, ‘DC Bennett will show you out.’

  A short while later, when Milner and DC Bennett were both together again, DC Bennett said, ‘I still think he’s lying, sir. I can tell. There’s something about him which isn’t right.’

  ‘If that’s the case, then you need to find out what it is. We can’t go around accusing someone of murder just because we don’t like them.’

  DC Bennett didn’t respond, and so Milner continued. ‘What we can do, though, is check out his alibi. Let’s talk to his wife to see if she confirms what he’s just told us. Also, have you had the chance yet to speak with Mr Wilton?’

  ‘Not yet, sir. He’s been away for a few days but is due back tomorrow. I’ve left a message for him to ring me back as soon as he returns.’

  ‘Good,’ he said, before adding, ‘Why don’t you also get hold of Mr Blackwell’s phone records for that Sunday?’

  ‘What about CCTV, sir?’ asked DC Bennett. ‘Why don’t I check to see if there is any which would show him entering and leaving his office when he said he did?’

  ‘Okay. Get on to it straight away, then,’ answered Milner.

  ‘Any messages from the boss?’ asked DC Bennett.

  ‘No, although I’m sure there will be.’

  ‘I wonder what he’s been doing.’

  ‘I’ve learnt not to speculate,’ answered Milner. ‘What I do know, though, is that, whatever it is, it will be a surprise to us.’

  Chapter 38

  It was late afternoon, the following day, and Milner and DC Bennett were reviewing the latest information they had obtained.

  ‘So, it wasn’t just his wife who he spoke with when he was in the office,’ said Milner. He was studying an A4 sheet of paper which listed all the calls Craig Blackwell had made and received on that particular day.