All Quiet on Arrival (9 page)

‘I got to know her on a cruise in January. I was a steward on the liner she was on, and she and her husband occupied a stateroom that was serviced by me.'

I glanced at Dave, hoping that he wouldn't laugh. He had a different definition of ‘servicing' in this context.

‘Yes, go on,' I said.

‘It was obvious that she'd taken a fancy to me. You get a lot of women like that on cruises. A bit of sun, and some sea air, and they get horny. She wasn't bad looking for her age, neither, and I could see what she wanted; you can always tell. And her husband was an old guy, well past it, I should think. I doubt that even a treble dose of Viagra would have helped him much.' Hendry laughed, but it was a cynical laugh. ‘So it became quite regular, and I s'pose I must've laid her about six or seven times during the cruise. She'd always give me a tip, usually fifty quid, but I knew what she was really paying for.'

‘But you finished up getting the sack.'

‘Yes, thanks to her bleedin' husband. He told the skipper that I'd raped his wife. The skipper took it seriously because it turned out that old man Barton was a director of the line, or was tied up with it somehow. That was all on the day before the cruise ended. So, the skipper sent for me the next day and gave me the boot.'

‘Which annoyed you, presumably?'

‘What d'you think? Of course it bloody annoyed me. I haven't been able to get a job at sea since.'

‘Annoyed you enough to want to kill Diana's husband.'

Hendry stared at me. ‘Don't tell me he's dead an' all.'

‘Yes, he was murdered last night.'

‘Bloody hell! Well, I can't say I'm sorry. It was him what lost me my job. Even after Diana admitted to the skipper that she'd been willing.'

That was a fascinating example of self-delusion. Hendry obviously refused to see that it was his own misdeeds that had resulted in his dismissal.

‘Where were you yesterday?'

‘Here in Southampton, all day, and all night.'

‘Can anyone vouch for that?'

‘I picked Shell up from the supermarket when she finished work at four o'clock, and took her home. We went out for a pizza at about eight, had a few drinks in a pub, and then went back home again at about eleven.'

‘Where did you have this pizza?' asked Dave.

Hendry furnished the name and address of the restaurant. ‘They'll remember us; we're often in there.'

‘I hope they do,' said Dave, as he wrote down the details. ‘For your sake.'

Hendry's account of his movements the previous evening had been a little too perfect, and tallied precisely with what Shelley had told us. Although neither of them was very bright, they were still devious enough to have arranged that alibi in advance.

‘How come you went to a party at Diana's house, then?' I asked.

‘The last time I bedded her on the cruise was the day before we docked. That was about twenty-four hours before I got the push,' Hendry added bitterly. ‘And that was all because her old man had seen me coming out of their stateroom. But Diana had said that she wanted to see me again, in London. She give me her address and phone number, and I went to see her a few times.'

‘For more of the same, I suppose?' put in Dave.

Hendry gave a sly grin. ‘Well, it wasn't for afternoon tea and biscuits, mate.'

‘Why did she have a party in Chelsea?' I asked.

‘She said she wanted to celebrate having a new kitchen fitted. That was all bullshit, of course. Just an excuse. Not that she needed one. She said her old man was away, so there wouldn't be no problems with him. If he'd been there, I wouldn't have gone nowhere near the place.'

‘And presumably he was away on the previous occasions when you went there.'

‘Too bloody right. But I was still a bit doubtful about going to a party because before that it had been one on one, if you take my meaning, but she said to bring a bird if I wanted to. I said I'd take Shell. And Diana said OK, because there'd be some other guys there who'd keep Shell amused while Diana and me were having fun.'

‘What did Shelley say about that?'

‘She was all for it. We might live together, but we go our own ways when it suits us.'

Now we were getting to the crunch. ‘And who were these other guys who were there?'

Hendry's chin dropped to his chest, presumably in thought. ‘I remember a geezer called Gaston,' he began.

‘Was he a Frenchman?' asked Dave.

‘Yeah, I think so. He spoke with a funny accent anyhow. Oh, and there was a bloke called Bruce. He was an Aussie. And there were two other guys: Dale and Barry.'

‘Surnames?' I asked.

‘No idea,' said Hendry.

‘What about the women?'

‘There were three of them, I think, apart from Shell.' Hendry paused in thought again. ‘Liz, Debbie and Charlene. That Liz was some bird, I can tell you.' He looked wistful. ‘Long blonde hair and big boobs.'

‘And were they all in a state of undress, like Shelley was when the police came to the door?'

Hendry grinned. ‘Yeah, they'd all got their kit off by the time the party got going.'

‘What did Diana Barton think of all that?'

‘It was her idea. She said it wouldn't be a party if it wasn't un … er, unhib something.'

‘Uninhibited?' suggested Dave.

‘Yeah, I think that's what she said.'

‘And was Diana dressed like that?'

‘Yeah, she was the first to get her gear off. All of it.'

‘And did you have sex with her?'

‘Of course. That's why I was there. She was bloody good in the sack was Diana.' It was interesting that he'd admitted that. Shelley had claimed not to know that her boyfriend had been intimate with anyone at the party.

‘And did the other men?'

‘Did they what?'

‘Have sex with her?'

‘Probably. It was a bit of a free for all, if you know what I mean. I lost track of who was doing it with who.'

‘I get the picture,' I said. ‘These other women, did they come with the other men who were there?'

‘I s'pose so, except for Bruce, the Aussie. He come on his tod.' Hendry paused and wrinkled his brow. ‘Or did he bring Charlene? That's an Aussie name, innit? But I'm not sure. I know that Liz was Gaston's bird. He knew how to pick 'em all right.'

‘Whose idea was the music?' I asked.

‘One of the guys brought an iPod player and a docking station. That was Barry, I think. Yes, it was him. I s'pose that's what upset the guy next door. But Diana didn't give a stuff, and told Barry to turn up the volume.'

‘Was there much alcohol at this party?'

‘Stacks of it. Diana laid it on, and some of the guys brought bottles. Well, you do, don't you?'

‘What about drugs?'

‘Dunno nothing about that.'

‘And were you drinking?' asked Dave.

‘I know what you're thinking. Yeah, I had a few bevvies, but Shell don't drink, and she was going to drive us back to the hotel.'

‘Except you didn't go to the hotel, did you?'

‘No, not after what we'd found. I never had anything to do with Diana getting done in, but I thought it best to get the hell out of it as quick as I could.'

‘When did the party end?' I asked.

‘About midnight. Everyone pushed off together, except Shell and me. And, like I said, I went to find Diana to fix up for coming to see her again. Believe me, the fifty quid she gave me each time came in very handy now I'm out of work, and we couldn't live on what Shell gets down the supermarket.'

‘Before you left, who was the last to leave?'

‘Well, no one. They all left together. I remember because they was laughing and shouting outside in the street, and I thought that the law would turn up. And they did.'

‘The fire officer's report said that the fire was started with an accelerant.'

‘Do what?'

‘It means that something flammable was used to spread the fire quickly. What d'you know about that?'

Hendry stayed silent for a few moments. Like politicians who find themselves in deep shtuck, I imagine he was considering his position. But I was surprised at his next statement.

‘That was down to me.'

Dave looked at me with that same expression as he had used before. This time I nodded, and Dave quickly cautioned the ex-steward.

‘Why did you do it?' I asked.

‘I was sure the police would find out that I'd known Diana, and would reckon I'd topped her. So I thought that to get rid of all the evidence would let me off the hook.'

‘Where did the flammable liquid come from?'

Hendry smiled. ‘There was plenty of Scotch and brandy and vodka in the house. I know it was a terrible waste, but I used that.' He seemed more upset by the profligate use of the alcohol than he did about setting fire to the house. And his statement tallied with the empty bottle that Linda found with his fingerprints on it. Not that that meant anything; he'd admitted drinking at the house.

‘I'll ask you again: why didn't you immediately call the police? You had ample opportunity when the officer called at the house minutes later.'

‘Because I knew you'd put it on me.'

I was still having difficulty in believing Hendry's account. He had motive, opportunity and means, and setting fire to the Bartons' house appeared to confirm his guilt. But even so, none of that constituted enough evidence to secure a conviction for murder. We needed more.

‘Are you willing to provide a sample of your DNA?' I asked.

‘What for?' Hendry's tone implied refusal.

‘I can always get an order from a senior officer to take it.' I knew that Jock Ferguson, holding the requisite rank, would sign the authority without hesitation.

Hendry shrugged. ‘Yeah, OK.'

Dave produced the necessary kit from his briefcase. Using a special cotton bud, he took a sample of Hendry's saliva, placed it carefully in a small container, and labelled it.

‘Thomas Hendry, I am arresting you for committing criminal damage by fire at twenty-seven Tavona Road, on or about the twenty-seventh of July this year. You will shortly be taken to London where you will be charged with that offence.' And although Dave had cautioned him, I cautioned him again. At long last, I'd learned the words.

‘Yeah, well, like I said, it was down to me.'

Dave wrote that statement in his pocketbook.

Once Hendry had been placed in a cell, I spoke to Jock Ferguson, and told him what had happened.

‘You'll be wanting to charge him in London, I suppose, Harry.'

‘It'll be more convenient, Jock,' I said. ‘And it's the venue of the offence.'

‘OK. We'll keep him here until you can arrange an escort. I'll let the CPS worry about the driving charges. But I don't suppose they'll bother about them in view of what you've nicked him for.' Jock Ferguson was a realist.

O
n Friday I assembled my team in the incident room for a briefing, firstly to follow up on what Thomas Hendry had told us, and secondly to review what else we knew about the two murders. It was obvious that our priority was to trace the people who'd been at Diana Barton's ‘kitchen' party. But how we were to do that presented a problem. Several, in fact.

‘First of all,' I began, ‘When Thomas Hendry gets here later today, I shall charge him with arson at twenty-seven Tavona Road on the night of Diana Barton's murder. He strongly denied committing her murder, but held up his hands to setting fire to the house.'

‘Has he got an alibi for James Barton's topping, guv?' asked DI Ebdon.

‘I'm fairly satisfied that the murder of James Barton is not down to him, Kate, but I'll come to that later. However, I haven't dismissed the possibility that he murdered Diana. And that means that we could be looking for two murderers.'

‘But if he set fire to the Bartons' house on the night of the murder, he must've topped Diana, surely,' said Kate, unwilling to give up a promising suspect. ‘Why else would he have done it?'

‘Yes, I know,' I said, ‘but I'll get to that. Hendry gave us the first names of some of the people who were at Diana Barton's party.' I waved a hand at the whiteboard upon which Colin Wilberforce had recorded them. The use of a whiteboard was one thing about which the commander and I were in agreement; probably the only thing. He did not trust computers any more than I did, and said that he wanted to see information cast in stone. That, of course, would be difficult, but a whiteboard was the next best thing.

‘Didn't he provide us with any surnames, guv?' asked DC Nicola Chance, a note of desperation in her voice as she realized the futility of trying to trace anyone by their first names alone.

‘No. He claimed that he didn't know them, but there is one glimmer of hope. Hendry said that one of the guests was called Gaston, as you can see.' I waved a hand at the whiteboard again. ‘And that he was possibly French. The chances are that he is Gaston Potier. He was, past tense, employed as a hotel manager by the company that had James Barton on its board. When we interviewed Barton he said that he'd arrived home one day and found Potier in bed with Diana. He sacked Potier next day, but didn't know where he went after that.'

‘Do we know where Potier is now, guv?' asked Nicola.

‘Not at the moment. It's possible, however, that Diana kept in contact with Potier, and that he was the Gaston at the party.' I glanced at DS Tom Challis, an ex-Stolen Car Squad officer. ‘Try the Driver and Vehicle Licensing Agency, Tom, and see if they've got an address for him. If you don't have any luck with the DVLA, you could try the Border Agency, although with the free movement of EU citizens I don't suppose they would have a record. Failing that, I'll have to call in a favour from the
Police Judiciaire
in Paris.' Henri Deshayes, an
inspecteur
with the Paris police was always willing to help me out. For the price of a bottle of cognac. ‘It's possible that Potier's now resident back in France, and came over just for the weekend of Diana's little get-together.'