Carnal Acts (33 page)

Heck was with Joni and Pancake in his office. They were looking at the SOCOs’ report on the tyre track from the moor.

‘BF Goodrich 235/70 R16,’ Rokeby said. ‘Standard all-terrain model often used on pickups and 4×4s. This one’s almost worn to the legal limit.’

‘Lord Favon had a red Japanese 4×4 up on the moor – a Toyota Land Cruiser,’ Heck said. ‘But it looked in pretty good nick. Even if the tyres weren’t, he saw the techies taking the prints. If he grabbed Ollie Forrest, he’ll have changed his tyres by now.’

There was a knock on the glass door and Eileen Andrews came in, holding some printed pages.

‘Vehicles registered to Favon Estates Ltd – three tractors, a combine harvester…’

‘Not farm equipment, Eileen,’ Heck said impatiently.

Joni had the impression that DC Andrews was playing to the gallery. She didn’t blame her as she’d done the donkey work.

‘Right, sir. One Toyota Land Cruiser, red, registra—’

‘The one Andrew Favon had on the moor,’ Heck said. ‘Go on.’

‘One Mazda Miata, black—’

‘I’ve seen Lady Favon in that in town,’ Heck said. ‘Go on.’

‘One Suzuki Grand Vitara, black—’

‘What?’ Joni said. ‘As per the anonymous phone call?’

Heck nodded. ‘Interesting. Is there more, Eileen?’

‘Yes, sir, there’s a Hilux Invincible, 2007—’

‘Colour?’ asked the other three, in unison.

DC Andrews smiled. ‘Red.’

‘Like the pickup that disappeared up a side road after monitoring Suzana Noli in the wood,’ Joni said.

‘I wonder who was driving that,’ Heck said, turning to Eileen. ‘Can you get a list of the Favons’ staff?’

‘Should be able to from National Insurance records.’ The DC left the room.

‘Do you think this will persuade Mrs Normal?’ Joni asked.

‘I…’ Heck frowned and picked up his phone. ‘Right away, ma’am.’ He stood up and looked at Joni. ‘Speaking of the devil seems to work. We’re required upstairs. Not you, Pancake. Lucky bug … Sorry.’

Rokeby shrugged.

Ruth Dickie was waiting for them impatiently.

‘Listen to this,’ she said. ‘DCI Young just told me that the Stars and Bars club in Newcastle has been destroyed in an explosion.’

Heck and Joni looked at each other.

‘No casualties as it happened when the place was closed. Fortunately they weren’t stocking the bars or cleaning.’

‘Does DCI Young have any suspects?’ Joni asked.

‘Well, Gary Frizzell’s mates are still in Durham Prison, so they’re ruled out.’

‘No doubt he had other mates,’ Heck said.

The ACC nodded. ‘Though I doubt they know much about explosives. The Bomb Squad is still working the scene, but they seem to be sure this was a sophisticated device linked to numerous barrels of petrol.’

‘Does Lee think one of the local gangs had a go at the Albanians?’

‘It’s a possibility. They could have hired an expert.’ Dickie paused. ‘Do you have any thoughts?’

‘Michael Etherington,’ Joni said.

The ACC’s face was blank.

‘He’s involved with the Steel Toe Caps,’ Joni continued. ‘And he has a grudge against the Albanians from his time in Kosovo.’

‘Plus he’s been out of contact since last night,’ Heck said.

‘I understand him wanting revenge for his grandson’s death, but what would the Albanians, especially those in Newcastle, have had to do with that?’

Joni glanced at Heck. ‘Perhaps the black 4×4 that ran Nick off the road was driven by an Albanian.’

‘Motive?’ Dickie demanded.

Joni thought about that. ‘Not sure.’

The ACC turned her attention to Heck. ‘I’m going over to the Newcastle MCU shortly. You should come with me unless you have more pressing business.’

‘I think I do,’ he said, laying out the SOCO evidence about the tyres and Andrews’s researches into the Favon estate’s vehicles, as well as the fact that the ganger Wayne Garston was in contact with Dan Reston, Lord Favon’s factor.

‘I doubt even this will get us a search warrant, given the
viscount’s
friends in high places,’ Ruth Dickie said.

‘Maybe not, but it’s enough to justify a visit and some questions.’

‘Very well, but keep it short and polite. Lord Favon can cause a lot of trouble. And if it arrives on my desk, I’ll be passing it down.’

‘Great,’ Heck said, under his breath. ‘I’ll get DI Simmons and his team to check where the Steel Toe Caps were last night.’

The ACC handed him a report. ‘This is what DCI Young knows.’

‘A couple of pages,’ Heck said, after a quick look. ‘That much?’

Joni stifled a laugh as they turned away.

Evie was lying beneath the table in the library. She felt feverish, having not eaten or drunk much since she’d heard about Nick’s death. There was a rattling noise in the sky. She could
feel them gathering around, entering her, filling her weak and damaged body. Except they, the spirits of
vodoun
, didn’t think it was damaged. They loved it, caressing it with their invisible fingers and running their tongues through her veins and organs. What was it they were telling her, their voices low and sombre? That the earth was waiting to feel her feet on it, the winds to blow through her hair, the sun to warm and the rain to purify her. Had she not seen them, the messengers of the
loa
? Pigeons on the rooftops, sparrows venturing high up the old tower to peck at the walls, the blur of a peregrine as it plucked away a sparrow…

And what about the smells? Fruit, some rotting after the long journey from the islands in the west; goat flesh, high and greasy, but glorious; dried fish from the bright blue waters of home. And, above all, sugar, bringer of life and death, of wealth and desecration, of power and deviancy: glistening molasses, dark demerara, moist muscovado. Her exploiter ancestors refined away the goodness, making Europeans addicted to the supposedly pure variety that matched their skins. Sugar built and sustained empires, sugar ruined the teeth and bellies of those who consumed it. Sugar was what she would throw in her parents’ faces. She’d read enough of the family history. Until recently she’d thought she would be able to escape unaided. But now the spirit voices were telling her of a new future…

Evie heard cars on the gravel of the front drive. She came out of her trance and crawled out. She got to her feet, then limped to the door and opened it. There was a high window on the other side of the passage. She recognised some of the people who had arrived. She decided to play the spy. She knew all the hidden passageways and secret places that her forefathers had built into the Hall for their nefarious purposes.

Joni drove the Land Rover to Favon Hall, with Heck in the passenger seat. Pancake was in a separate vehicle behind, followed by a SOCO van. They were going to try their luck without a warrant.

Joni glanced at Heck. ‘Morrie Simmons told me that Viscountess Favon – Victoria – has a reputation for affairs.’

‘Aye, she does. The last I heard, she was knocking off a joiner in Ponteland.’

‘Was he young?’

‘A friend of a friend told me he was in his mid-twenties. Couldn’t believe his luck.’

‘Victoria Favon’s thirty-nine,’ Joni said. ‘Her biological clock’s ticking pretty loudly.’

Heck frowned. ‘What are you saying?’

‘Maybe she’s going with young men in order to get pregnant. They do have higher sperm counts.’

‘You think she might be the older woman Nick Etherington was with at Easter?’

‘It’s a possibility. And the anonymous caller might be leading us by the nose. He – or she – told us where the incident happened, but that doesn’t mean the rest of the information is true. Maybe a red Toyota Land Cruiser was involved.’

‘You do have a vivid imagination,’ Heck said. ‘Then again, the Favons have a black 4×4 as well.’

‘True. I’m not finished being vivid yet. Are there any rumours about Viscount Favon?’

‘You mean about playing away from home?’ He looked at her thoughtfully. ‘Actually, he does have a bit of a reputation. He was caught during a raid on a brothel in Newcastle about five years ago. Friends in high places got him out without charge. The senior investigating officer – nice fella called Donnie Pepper, he’s retired now – was very pissed off. One of the women said the noble lord hurt her with nipple clamps and the like.’

Joni’s jaw dropped. ‘And this only occurred to you now?’

Heck ran his hand across his thin hair. ‘Well, yes. What, you think it’s important?’

‘Can you call this Donnie Pepper and ask him for more information? If Favon’s a brothel-user who’s into S&M, he might have been a regular at Burwell Street.’

‘Bloody hell.’ Heck sat back and searched for his phone. When he found it, he called and left a message.

‘There’s something else,’ Joni said. ‘The Favon family needs a male heir. I checked the line of succession. If they remain without a son, the house and the estate will pass to a cousin in Canada.’

‘Can’t see Andrew Favon being too happy about that,’ Heck said. ‘He always goes on about how his ancestors have lived there for centuries.’

‘Yes,’ Joni said, ‘I read a speech he made to Corham chamber of commerce in which he said exactly that.’

Heck looked out at trees on both sides of the drive leading to the Hall. He’d spoken earlier to the viscount. He wasn’t enthusiastic, but he agreed to see them.

‘Are you going to be diplomatic?’ he asked.

‘I doubt it.’

‘Why am I not surprised?’

‘Someone’s got to do the dirty work.’

Heck thought about that. It was one thing playing hardball with armed gangsters, and that was bad enough. But people who could ruin your career with a single phone call were an entirely different matter. To his shame, he found himself afraid again, just when he thought he’d got his nerve back after tackling the Albanian.

Suzana knew she was getting to the man in the woollen mask. He had made her strip again and she had started to scream. Her hope was that she’d provoke him into some careless action, giving her a chance to use the knife on him. Instead, his reaction was strange. He threatened her with the shock stick, but this time he didn’t force her into the bathroom. He stared at her with wide, bloodshot eyes, taking in her breasts and the triangle between her legs. She’d expected him to make a move on her and was ready. Her screaming must have put him off. He shouted something she didn’t understand and then left the room after throwing a flask, a wrapped sandwich and an apple on the bed. It was a victory of sorts and it raised her spirits.

But not for long. Suzana had been thinking. Why was she being kept in this dark room? Why was she being fed? At first she’d expected one or more of her countrymen to come through the door, armed and fired up for vengeance. As time went by, that began to seem less likely. She kept up her guard and slept lightly, ready to draw the knife from inside herself. She thought about the man she’d heard screaming below. It was hard to count the hours, but she knew it was at least a day since his voice had come through the floor. Had he gone? Had he been killed? Why were they holding a man and a woman? The pig Leka would have had her working on her back by know, so it didn’t seem she was being prepared for prostitution. But if not that, then what?

Suzana stood beneath the blacked-out window and listened to the wind. She heard the songs of birds in the distance and they reminded her of her village. These were country birds. Was the big house far from others? Was that a good thing? At least she wasn’t being penetrated by men. Yet.

She made a decision. The next time the man with the stick came, she would attack, even if it cost her life. She wanted her freedom again. The days in Cor-ham and in the fields and hills
had brought her back to life. She wasn’t going to let anyone control her again. Now that she had made up her mind, she felt better.

Suzana slept.

Lord Favon met them on the front steps of the Hall, a
building
Joni took an instant dislike to. Apart from shaking her hand loosely, he paid no attention to her. Even Pete Rokeby got more attention, which struck her as interesting. The viscount seemed to find women difficult.

Lady Favon greeted them inside the entrance hall. In contrast to her husband, she gripped Joni’s hand tightly and gave her a warm smile. At Oxford Joni had been in a tutorial pair with a female student from an aristocratic family and hadn’t enjoyed the experience. The young woman had been friendly enough at the start, but frequently put her down in front of the don. She was later reported to have referred to Joni as ‘that poor black bitch’, the first of the adjectives referring to her early years in poverty rather than suggestive of sympathy.

The Favons led them into the large drawing room.

‘So, DCI Rutherford and sidekicks,’ Victoria Favon said, her green eyes flashing in the sunlight coming through the leaded-glass windows. ‘What is it you want to talk to us about?’

Heck had his stern expression on. ‘Do you know General Etherington, my lord?’ he asked.

‘Michael? Of course.’ Favon looked at the faded oriental carpet. ‘Terrible thing. First his son, then his wife and now his grandson. He must be feeling very inadequate.’

That struck Joni as a remarkably ill-chosen thing to say and she stored it away. His lordship evidently had a talent for inserting his foot in his mouth.

‘Have you seen him recently?’ Heck asked conversationally.

The heavy man thought about that. ‘At a dinner a few weeks ago,’ he said, after several moments. ‘Maybe more recently. Can’t put my finger on it. Why?’

Heck didn’t answer.

Joni looked at Lady Favon. ‘Perhaps it would be easier if your husband left the room. DCI Rutherford has various things to discuss with him.’

‘None of that,’ Andrew Favon said, voice booming in the open space. ‘We have no secrets from each other.’

Joni took in the couple’s body language. They were seated about five yards apart and Victoria Favon, dressed in an
immaculate
dark blue skirt and jacket with a string of pearls round her neck, was leaning away from her husband. The latter’s bald head gleamed like a pink moon.

‘Of course not,’ she replied, smiling but not at Andrew.

‘Very well,’ Joni said. ‘Lady Favon…’

‘Victoria, please.’

Joni didn’t respond to the offer of informality. ‘Were you conducting an affair with Nick Etherington around Easter time?’

Victoria didn’t look away, but she did laugh lightly. ‘Conducting an affair? That sounds like something out of an old-fashioned novel.’ She took a cigarette from a silver case and lit it. ‘I’m sorry, would anyone else like one?’

The three police officers said nothing.

‘As a matter of fact, I was.’ Victoria Favon blew smoke out elegantly and glanced at her husband. ‘We have what people call an open marriage, don’t we, darling?’

Joni looked at the lord, who nodded and gave a tight smile. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘Can you tell me when and why the affair finished?’

Victoria Favon’s expression darkened. ‘Yes … yes, I can. It was shortly before Nick went back to school. I didn’t want to distract him before his A-levels. And, to tell you the truth, he’d become rather needy. I felt it best to draw a line under things.’

‘How did he react?’

‘He was shocked at first. He called and texted me. But I was firm and he saw the light.’

Joni finished writing. ‘When was the last time you saw Nick?’

Victoria blew smoke out again. ‘Wednesday evening, I think. He was here revising with Evie and left on his bike.’

‘Lady Favon,’ Heck said, ‘we have made frequent appeals across the media for witnesses and information. Why did you not come forward?’

‘Because she knows nothing about the boy’s death,’ Andrew Favon said gruffly.

‘Please allow your wife to answer,’ Joni said.

‘I … I heard the broadcasts, of course,’ Victoria said, her eyes on Joni. ‘I didn’t think I could say anything relevant.’

‘We like to be the judges of that kind of thing,’ Heck said.

‘When you were with Nick, where did you meet?’ Joni asked.

‘Oh, various places. I used one of the 4×4s.’

‘The black Suzuki Grand Vitara?’ Pete Rokeby asked,
breaking
his duck. ‘Registration number
N
011
WDH
?’

‘It’s round the back if you want to take a look,’ Victoria said.

‘Thank you,’ Pete said, getting up. ‘May we inspect all your vehicles, my lord?’

Favon didn’t look overjoyed, but he nodded.

After Rokeby had left, Joni continued.

‘How many times did you and Nick have sex?’

‘Is this really necessary?’ Andrew Favon protested.

‘Yes,’ Heck said.

‘It’s all right,’ Victoria said. ‘Six, at least.’ She smiled sadly. ‘He was such a sweet young man. I feel terrible about what happened to him.’

‘Have you any idea who smashed his face in?’ Joni asked, with deliberate brutality.

‘Now, look…’

Lady Favon raised a hand and her husband was instantly silenced.

‘I can’t believe anyone could do that,’ she said.

‘What other vehicles did you use?’ Joni continued. So far the woman’s responses had been convincing.

‘Once I took the estate pickup, a…’

‘Red Hilux Invincible, manufactured in 2007, registration number
NL
69
SMG
.’

Joni read from her notebook.

‘Yes,’ Victoria said. ‘Our factor Dan Reston usually has the use of it, but one of the places we met is particularly rough and I didn’t want to make a mess of the Vitara.’

‘Did you use the red Land Cruiser at all?’ Heck asked, watching her husband.

‘No, that’s Andrew’s. He keeps it very much for himself.’

‘And you would have sex in the vehicles?’ Joni asked.

‘Actually, no. I’m rather a fan of al fresco.’

‘Wasn’t that uncomfortable?’

‘I’ve become a tough country lass,’ Victoria said, looking at her husband. ‘Haven’t I, darling?’

He laughed hollowly. ‘I should say so.’

Lady Favon smiled, showing straight white teeth. ‘You
have
been doing your homework, DI … Pax, was it? Unusual name.’

Joni kept her cool and changed the subject. ‘Major General Michael Etherington. What’s the nature of your relationship with him?’

Lady Favon laughed and stubbed out her cigarette. ‘You mean, did he and I have sex, as you put it? No, he was very attached to his wife. And for years he was away being a hero.’

‘He was a desk jockey in the MoD at the end of his time in the army,’ Andrew Favon said dismissively.

‘When did you last see him?’

‘Wednesday. He brought Nick here.’

‘Man’s turned into a frightful bore since he retired. Keeps talking about his service in those God-awful Balkan places. He has a real bug in his bonnet about them.’

‘Bee,’ said Lady Favon.

He stared at her uncomprehendingly.

Joni caught the woman’s gaze again. ‘Do you think the general knew that you’d chanced your hand with Nick?’

‘Chanced my hand?’ Victoria Favon’s laughter was a high trill. ‘You really must read a lot of romantic fiction. I fancied him, that’s all. It was nothing to do with Michael. The boy was over age.’

‘Do you have dogs?’ Heck asked.

‘What?’ Andrew Favon said, taken aback by the handbrake turn in the questioning. ‘No. I get asthma if animals are in the house.’

‘There must be some on the estate.’

‘Of course, man. The shepherds have their collies, no doubt some of the tenants have pets. What are you getting at?’

A decision had been taken not to publicise the marks on what remained of Gary Frizzell’s throat.

‘No guard dogs?’ Heck looked around the room. ‘You must have plenty of valuable things and burglaries of big houses are on the rise.’

‘This is a hall,’ Favon said stiffly. ‘If you look outside, you’ll see that there are burglar alarms on the walls. They have been quite satisfactory.’

‘What about your man Reston?’ Heck asked.

‘What about him?’

‘Does he have dogs?’

Lord Favon hesitated. ‘I don’t think so. He’s more of a machine type.’

Joni noticed the delay before he answered. The questioning moved on to Ollie Forrest. Neither of the Favons had seen him recently and both twisted their lips at the mention of his name.

‘I’d like to interview your daughter, Evelyn,’ Joni said.

‘Out of the question,’ Andrew Favon said.

‘I really must agree with my husband,’ Victoria said. ‘Tell Ruth Dickie that Evie’s off limits, at least for the time being. She’d grown very friendly with Nick recently. She’s still terribly upset.’

Heck and Joni got to their feet. Lady Favon said her farewells at the main entrance, while her husband took them to the garages. There they watched as the SOCOs ran tests. The prints from the moor did not match any of the vehicles’ tyres.

‘We need to talk to Daniel Reston,’ Heck said to Favon.

‘Well, you’ll have to wait. He’s on leave.’

‘Since when.’

‘The day before yesterday. He took his wife, Cheryl, to visit her family on the train. I ran them to Newcastle Central. I’m afraid I don’t know where they were going exactly. Somewhere in the south-west.’

‘I presume Mr Reston lives on the estate,’ Heck said. ‘We need to check his house.’

‘Now, look here, Rutherford, I’ve played the white man.’ If Andrew Favon cared about using that expression in Joni’s presence, he didn’t show it. ‘But this is too much. I’m not letting you go through a man’s home and mess up his things when he isn’t there, especially without a warrant. What have you got against him anyway?’

Heck ignored that. ‘Give me his mobile number, please.’

The viscount did so, with ill grace. It squared with the one found on the ganger’s phone.

‘One more thing,’ Heck said. ‘Do you know a Wayne Garston?’

Andrew Favon looked blank. ‘Never heard of him. Who is he?’

Heck smiled and didn’t answer. Soon afterwards they left the estate. Pete Rokeby stayed behind with the SOCOs. It wasn’t long before the ACC was on the phone. Heck turned on speaker mode.

‘I’ve just had a call from Lord Favon,’ Ruth Dickie said. ‘He wasn’t happy.’

‘I took very accurate notes,’ Joni said.

‘I’m glad you did, DI Pax. Did you find out anything useful?’

Joni filled her in.

‘I hope you think it was worth it,’ the ACC said. ‘If I get the chief constable on my back, you’ll be the first to hear.’

‘I don’t know why he would complain,’ Joni said.

‘Favon mentioned intrusive questioning.’

‘His wife was quite willing to answer everything I threw at her.’

‘I don’t think we went far enough,’ added Heck. ‘I wish I’d asked the noble lord about his interest in nipple clamps.’

There was a loud sigh. ‘I suppose I should count myself lucky then.’

Joni and Heck both laughed after she broke the connection.

‘Good old Mrs Normal,’ Heck said. ‘Mention nipples and she has a hot flush.’

Joni shook her head. ‘Have you heard of political correctness, sir?’

‘Isn’t that what the government’s full of?’

She let that go. ‘What did you make of them?’

‘Victoria Favon is as cool as a … you know what I mean. I don’t think she’s a killer, though.’

‘No, I agree. Her man’s more in that mould.’

‘No, he’s all bark – even though he isn’t a dog fan – and as toothless as an old wolf.’

‘He drew the line about giving us access to Reston’s house.’

‘We haven’t got enough for a warrant. Hang on, I’ll call the man himself.’ Heck did so. There was no reply, the call transferring to voicemail without a personalised message.

‘What now?’ Joni asked.

‘Back to Corham. Maybe Michael Etherington will have turned up.’

‘Or maybe he’ll have blown something else up.’

Heck shook his head. ‘Jumping to conclusions is a bad idea.’

‘The one about Victoria Favon and Nick Etherington worked out all right.’

‘Aye, but where has it got us?’

Joni needed to think about that.