Fatal Love Read online

  Chapter 5

  Later that same morning, Tom and Milner were seated in a large room. From here they could see the River Thames below them. Different types of craft were either moored by the side of the river or making their way along it. As the sun reflected off the water it gave the impression of an almost perfect early winter’s day.

  DC Bennett had certainly been correct when he had described Mr and Mrs Burton’s home. If anything, he had actually undersold it. The house was an imposing, three-storey Georgian building, located towards the top of the hill, in one of the most sought-after, and therefore expensive, parts of the town. The high walls and impressive wooden gate gave it an air of seclusion. From this location, in addition to the river, there were also stunningly clear views of the town, immediately below, and the Great Pagoda, sited at the western edge of Kew Gardens. Towards the west, he could also make out the expanse of Richmond Park. As DC Bennett had said, the type of location where they could only ever dream of living.

  The room was quite spacious and, alongside the stunning views of the river, was tastefully decorated. On the walls were a number of professional photographs of Mrs Burton and her husband, together with a series of photographs of them with their children at various stages of their lives. There was also a clearly quite old and slightly battered cabinet on which rested an elaborately framed photograph featuring a girl, aged about twelve.

  ‘Thank you for seeing us, Mrs Burton,’ said Tom. ‘I know this must be a very distressing time for you, but my colleague DS Milner and I would like to ask you a few questions. If you feel that you are not able to answer them, we can always come back at a more convenient time.’

  Mrs Burton was also seated. She was probably in her early forties, quite tall and slim, with long dark hair. She was dressed in a way which reflected her environment: elegant and expensive. All in all, she gave the impression of a woman who spent considerable time and money on her appearance. As Tom looked at her he could, however, see just a hint of darkness under her eyes, suggesting a degree of anxiety and tension, probably the result of lack of sleep, crying or a combination of both.

  ‘No, that’s all right,’ she answered in a voice which surprised Tom. Given her immaculate appearance he had expected her to have a more upmarket accent. In fact, he thought that he could detect more than a hint of East London in her voice, even with just those few words. ‘Although I did answer all of the questions that other policeman asked me.’

  ‘Yes, he did say that. It’s normal procedure, though, for these follow-up visits, especially given the unusual circumstances.’

  ‘What do you mean, unusual circumstances?’ she replied, clearly alarmed. ‘My husband left the house just over a week ago and is still missing. Surely it’s very straightforward?’ Those last few words seemed to trigger an outbreak of emotion as they were said with a slight quiver in her voice. ‘Have you found him?’

  ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Burton,’ replied Tom. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you. Perhaps I used the wrong words. What I meant to say was that, given what we know about your husband, especially his wide circle of friends and acquaintances, he doesn’t seem to be the type of person who would simply disappear without contacting someone.’ He paused briefly before continuing. ‘I’m afraid to say we have not made any real progress so far, but I can assure you that we are doing everything possible. And it’s my experience that, in this type of situation, things can suddenly develop. As I said earlier, if you don’t feel you can talk right now, we can always come back at a later date.’

  ‘No. Let’s do it now,’ she quickly answered. ‘I know you are only doing your job, but I just find it very difficult to even mention his name.’

  ‘I understand,’ said Tom, as sympathetically as he could. Once again, he allowed himself a brief pause before continuing, having already decided that he would ask the most difficult question first. ‘Mrs Burton, I’m afraid this is something which I have to ask you.’ He paused again. ‘Were you and your husband experiencing any difficulties in your marriage? It’s a fact, I’m afraid, that many sudden disappearances relate to marital troubles.’

  Mrs Burton was surprisingly calm when she replied. ‘I assume you mean that Glyn might have left me for another woman?’

  ‘Well, yes, it is a possible explanation,’ answered Tom. ‘It’s something we do have to ask you, if only to discount the possibility. As I said, it is something which happens quite a lot.’

  ‘Like most marriages we’ve had our ups and downs,’ she answered, reflectively. ‘Well, who doesn’t?’

  It was Milner who next spoke. ‘And were there any downs recently?’

  Even Tom was slightly taken aback by Milner’s directness, but it clearly had the desired effect as Mrs Burton quickly answered. ‘Yes, it’s true there had been a few problems lately. You see, Glyn’s job meant he tended to stay away regularly during the week. He met with a lot of his clients in the evenings and so it was just more convenient for him to stay in town rather than keep having to come backwards and forwards. I know it’s not that far, but the nature of his business means there is quite a lot of entertaining which doesn’t end until late into the night. As I said, it’s just more convenient.’

  Of course Tom and Milner already knew about the existence of the flat. What they didn’t know was whether or not Mrs Burton knew about her husband’s extramarital entertaining. Tom resisted the temptation to mention that all the convenience seemed to be one-way.

  ‘You mentioned recent problems,’ said Milner. ‘If you don’t mind me asking, what specific problems have there been?’

  She hesitated briefly and then took a deep breath. ‘We had a big row the night before he disappeared. To be honest, we’ve had a lot of arguments recently. But this one was really awful.’ She paused and then added, almost talking to herself, ‘Fortunately, the children were staying with my mum.’ Another pause. ‘I can’t even remember what started it, but, before I knew it, I was accusing him of all sorts of things. Caring more about his business than his family. Leaving me by myself more and more. Not loving me. Finally, I asked him outright if he was having an affair. By then I didn’t even know what I was saying. It all just came out.’

  ‘And how did he respond?’ asked Tom.

  ‘As he usually did of late. He just told me I was being paranoid and that he would speak to me when I was less hysterical. He then went to bed.’ She hesitated slightly before continuing. ‘He has been sleeping in the back room for a few months now. In fact, I can’t even remember the last time we slept together. Looking back, it’s obvious that, over the past few years, we have been drifting further apart. There were times when I suspected he was seeing other women. But I think I must have just tried to block them out of my mind. Often I did think it would be best if we split up, but I suppose I never had the courage to carry it out. And anyway, I didn’t want to do anything which would affect the children.’

  ‘Do you think your husband felt the same?’ asked Tom.

  ‘I really don’t know. Sometimes, especially lately, it seemed as though he couldn’t care less about me. All he seemed interested in was his business. At other times, though, everything seemed to be good,’ she said, almost wistfully. ‘He wasn’t the sort of person who tended to show that type of emotion.’

  ‘Did you have your discussion with him?’ asked Milner.

  ‘No, because, as usual on a Sunday, he left early for golf. I was hoping that, when he got back, we could have a reasonable conversation but . . .’ At this point she suddenly began to cry.

  ‘Please take your time, Mrs Burton,’ said Tom.

  Eventually she stopped crying and was able to continue. ‘But we never did.’

  ‘Is there anyone who could stay with you whilst we continue our investigation?’ asked Tom, concerned about Mrs Burton’s welfare.

  ‘There’s Mum, but the children are staying with her for the time being. I just don’t want them here right now, while all of this is going on. The police liaison officer has been here a co
uple of times, but there’s no one else.’

  ‘You told my officer that, when your husband got back from golf, he immediately went into his office, and when he later came out he appeared to be very angry,’ Tom said. ‘Would it be possible to take a look in his office?’

  ‘Why do you need to do that? I’ve told you what happened,’ she said, a little brusquely.

  ‘I know,’ replied Tom, ‘but it would help if we could. It’s standard procedure to try to put ourselves in the environment where the person had been immediately prior to going missing.’

  ‘Okay, if you think it will help,’ she answered, seemingly reassured by his explanation.

  She led them into a surprisingly small room, located just before the kitchen. In fact, the room was so small there was barely enough space for all three of them.

  On one side of the room was the window, under which were a large table and accompanying chair. On the table were a keyboard and large computer monitor, together with a stapler and hole punch. In one corner of the table there was a printer. On the other side of the table was a framed photograph featuring four golfers. A solitary filing cabinet stood in one corner of the office. On the wall opposite the window were various photographs of Mr Burton, attending what looked like social functions. In the centre of the wall, however, was a framed but faded newspaper article, with the headline Local man making his mark.

  Tom examined the photograph of the golfers. ‘Which one is your husband?’

  ‘It’s him,’ she answered, pointing towards a tall, well-built, good-looking man, with dark, swept-back hair, standing in the middle part of the group. To his left was an older man – probably in his early fifties – whilst on his right stood the other two, both slightly younger-looking than Mr Burton, one of them quite muscular and as tall as Mr Burton himself.

  ‘Was he keen on golf?’ Tom asked, his eyes remaining on the four men.

  ‘Very keen. He used to say that it helped him relax and take his mind off his business. Although sometimes I did wonder if it actually made him more uptight, especially when he came back quite upset with the way he had played.’

  ‘Who are the other men?’ asked Tom.

  ‘Just some of the regular people he played with. This photo was taken a year or so ago when a few of the men from his club went on a golfing holiday to Portugal.’

  ‘Would you mind if I borrowed the photograph for a short while? I’ll make sure I return it as soon as possible.’

  Mrs Burton looked slightly puzzled. ‘Why?’

  ‘It’s just that it’s quite a recent photograph of your husband. Sometimes these things do help us with our inquiry.’

  Mrs Burton simply shrugged her shoulders and said, ‘I suppose that will be okay, but I would like it back.’

  ‘Of course. Thank you,’ answered Tom, picking up the photograph. Changing the subject, he then asked, ‘Do you know if your husband spoke with anyone when he was in his office?’

  Mrs Burton hesitated briefly before answering. ‘I’ve got no idea. All I know, as I’ve already told you, is that when he came out he seemed very angry.’

  ‘So you didn’t hear him speaking with anyone on the phone?’

  ‘How many more times do I need to tell you?’ she answered, angrily. ‘I didn’t hear anything.’

  ‘Thank you, Mrs Burton, for letting us take a look in his office.’

  They made their way back into the main room.

  ‘I understand you received a text from him later that day. What did it say?’ asked Tom.

  Mrs Burton reached for her mobile phone, which was on the small coffee table immediately in front of them. She found what she was looking for and handed the phone to Tom. He read out the text: ‘Have to meet someone later. I might not be able to get back tonight. And this was the last communication you had with your husband?’

  ‘Yes, it was the last time I heard from him. There has been nothing since. Not a text, not a phone call or even an email.’

  ‘Did he regularly text you when he was staying away?’

  ‘Sometimes. Usually to ask about the kids, though. It seems a long time since he asked how I was.’

  Tom read the text once again. As he read it, he could see that this was indeed the last one in the text stream she had received from her husband.

  He could also see that she was, once again, becoming distressed.

  ‘Are you happy to carry on?’ he asked, as he handed Mrs Burton’s phone back to her. ‘There are just a few more questions we’d like to ask.’

  ‘You might as well, now that you are here,’ she replied, in a slightly resigned voice.

  It was Milner who now took up the questioning, notebook and pencil in hand. ‘You mentioned your husband had left to play golf but came back early. Did he say why?’

  ‘He didn’t at the time, but I later found out, from someone who he usually plays with, that they couldn’t play because of the fog. Apparently, there was quite a long wait until the fog cleared. My husband was not the most patient of men. He never liked to hang around anywhere if he could possibly avoid it. He hated queueing. He considered it a waste of time.’

  ‘So, what time did he arrive home?’ Milner asked.

  ‘Some time just before twelve o’clock. I can’t remember the exact time.’

  Milner wrote down the time in his notebook. ‘And then when he left the house again, you have no idea where he might have gone?’

  Milner’s question appeared to upset Mrs Burton because, not for the first time, she began to cry. Eventually her crying subsided and she was able to speak, albeit between intermittent sobs. ‘I’ve got no idea. I’ve told you that already. Maybe it was to do with his business, or maybe it was because . . .’ Her sobs had now intensified to the extent she was finding it difficult to speak. ‘Maybe . . . maybe he was seeing another woman. I don’t know.’

  Both Tom and Milner waited until Mrs Burton had stopped crying before Milner spoke. ‘I know you have already spoken to my colleague DC Bennett, but would you mind confirming what your husband was wearing when he left the house?’

  It was with some obvious weariness that she answered. ‘Beige trousers. A white polo shirt and a dark blue sweater. He hadn’t changed out of his golf clothes.’

  ‘Was he wearing a jacket or coat?’ asked Milner, writing the details in his notebook.

  Mrs Burton paused, briefly, before replying. ‘He was wearing a dark blue fleece.’

  When Milner had finished writing he spoke again. ‘Did your husband mention any problems, for example, related to his work, in the days prior to his disappearance?’

  ‘Even if he had problems he would not have discussed them with me. He kept all of those business things to himself.’

  ‘What exactly was your husband’s business?’ asked Tom.

  ‘It was something to do with finance. Investments – that sort of thing. Although, as I said, he never really spoke to me about exactly what he did.’

  ‘He had a business partner, I understand. A Craig Blackwell,’ interjected Milner, reading the name from his notebook.

  ‘Yes, that’s right,’ she replied. ‘They set up the company together a number of years ago.’

  ‘ Investment and Wealth Management,’ continued Milner. ‘Isn’t that the name of the company?’

  ‘Yes,’ she simply replied.

  ‘If you don’t mind me saying, you live in a very exclusive and expensive part of London,’ said Milner. ‘His business must have been very successful.’

  Mrs Burton’s earlier anger resurfaced. ‘There is nothing wrong with being successful. Or don’t you think people like us are entitled to make their lives better?’ Before Milner could reply, she carried straight on. ‘Both of us came from the same East End council estate. Glyn might have had a few rough edges, and maybe he didn’t speak with the right accent, maybe he wasn’t always grammatically correct, but everything he achieved was due to his efforts. He had no wealthy parents who could afford a private education. He – in fact both of us �
� went to the local comprehensive school. Like his two brothers, he was a bit of a tearaway in his teens and got himself into trouble with the police a few times. But he grew out of that. Even then he was always good with numbers. He even managed to get himself into university – the first person in his family to do that. Everyone could see he was exceptional at maths. He finished with a first-class degree and when he graduated he was offered a job with a big London finance company. He worked there for a few years, was headhunted by a bigger company and then decided to set up his own business. So, yes, we do live in an exclusive and expensive area, but that’s because we worked hard to achieve all of this.’ She gestured at her surroundings.

  It was Tom who next spoke. ‘Please don’t think we were being critical. If anything,’ he added, in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere, ‘I’m a bit envious of what both of you have obviously achieved. You should be very proud of that.’

  Tom’s comments clearly had the desired effect because, when Mrs Burton next spoke, her earlier anger had disappeared. ‘I’m sorry, but sometimes, even after all of these years, I feel as though we are still outsiders.’

  Tom, picking up on this, said, ‘What do you mean? Do you have any examples of that?’

  ‘Nothing specific,’ she replied. ‘The neighbours are quite friendly – or at least the ones we know; everyone tends to keep themselves to themselves around here – but it’s more a feeling that we still aren’t quite accepted. Although I know Glyn has, in the past, had a few run-ins with some of the people at his golf club. It’s the West London golf club, just a few miles from here. He’s some sort of shareholder and part of the management committee there, but, from what he told me, I don’t think they really took to an East Ender hobnobbing with them. He took me there once for their Christmas ball, but I hated it.’

  ‘Why?’ asked Tom.

  ‘Maybe it was me, but I just felt that I was on show all the time and that people were judging me. I couldn’t wait to leave.’