Dark Side (11 page)

‘Susan Smithson?' Patrick queried after introducing us.

‘I don't call myself that now,' the woman replied.

‘How would you like to be known?'

‘Just call me Sue; it saves a lot of bother.'

‘May we sit down?' Patrick went on to ask politely.

‘God, you must be the first one to have asked that in here – ever,' she answered with a guffaw of laughter. ‘Go on, sit. Cigarette?'

‘No, thanks.'

‘Is she allowed to have one?' Sue enquired, gazing at me dubiously. Well, as was our working habit I
had
merely been referred to as an assistant who would take a few notes.

‘Thanks, but I don't smoke,' I said.

‘We do, don't we, Jonno? He's my son,' she added with a wave of her hand in his direction.

They both lit up and there was a short silence before Sue said, ‘You must want to talk about Paul.' She swung fiercely in Jonno's direction. ‘Unless you've been up to something. Have yer?'

Her son twitched in alarm and almost dropped his cigarette. ‘No, Mum. Would I?'

‘I do wonder sometimes,' the woman remarked darkly. ‘I just wish you'd go and get an effin' job.'

‘I
have
tried, Mum,' was the faintly snivelling response.

‘It is about your late husband,' Patrick confirmed. ‘I understand you didn't agree with the inquest findings.'

‘No, never in a million years. Someone killed him.'

‘Look, I'm sorry to bring back unpleasant memories but he had taken a large overdose of sleeping tablets together with enough whisky to have rendered him in danger of dying from alcohol poisoning.'

‘Paul never took sleeping tablets, never even 'ad one – he slept like something … well … dead.' A flicker of emotion crossed her face. ‘Well, he did. And he never touched whisky either – didn't like spirits. Bitter was his drink. I told you lot that at the time.'

‘In desperation, though?' Patrick prompted gently.

‘Yeah, he was in trouble, wasn't he?' A big sigh. ‘All I know is that he was working on this case involving some crime boss who the Met had been after for ages. Paul would have never taken money but someone might have threatened him to make him do something he shouldn't. I can't really help you as he never talked about his work. But he wasn't the sort of bloke just to chuck in living and top himself if he'd screwed up.'

‘I shall have to ask you why you broke up.'

‘That was my fault,' Sue said sadly. ‘He was never around, working all the time, so I went out with someone else – just for a couple of meals, you understand – not an affair. Paul took it very badly when he found out, didn't believe me, and walked out. I was quite shocked, really. I thought we could have sorted it out.'

‘Is that why you no longer use your married name?'

‘No, not at all. I do on formal things, like at the bank. It made me feel a bit creepy after he died as I was sure it wasn't suicide. I thought there might be someone out there watching us, someone connected with this crook. So how did you find me, by the way?' she demanded to know.

‘I asked your old immediate neighbours.'

‘Oh.'

‘Are you still worried about that – that you might be being watched?'

‘Yes, I am.'

‘I suggest you move farther away, this time without telling the neighbours where you're going.'

‘I could afford a better area if
he
got a job,' said Sue witheringly, glaring at Jonno. ‘I work most evenings at the Black Horse as it is.'

‘Did you have any kind of communication with your husband just before he died that would lead you to think he was being threatened?'

‘We weren't in touch at all for four or five months before it happened.'

‘What about you, Jonno?' Patrick went on to enquire. ‘No contact with your father at all?'

The man muttered, ‘We did meet up for the occasional pint. But he said not to say a word to Mum about it.'

‘Did you tell the police that at the time?'

‘No. Dad had told me not to say anything, hadn't he?'

Patrick swore very, very quietly under his breath and then said, ‘Well, now's the time to speak up, sonny. This is the Serious and Organised Crime Agency trying to put a mobster behind bars!'

Jonno jumped as though something had hit him, not surprising having been on the receiving end of Patrick's parade ground voice.

‘How many times did you meet him?' Patrick went on to ask, albeit more quietly.

‘What, altogether?'

‘Yes.'

‘A coupla dozen times, I suppose. P'raps a bit less.'

His mother turned an astonished gaze on him but said nothing.

‘That sounds as though you met him quite regularly.'

‘About every other Saturday evening, unless he was doing something else.'

‘Such as? He can't have worked that much overtime, surely.'

‘Dunno. Sometimes he'd just say he couldn't make it. Perhaps there was something on the telly he wanted to watch.'

‘Where did you meet him?'

‘The Swan most times. Or The Dog and Gun. They do good sausage, egg and chips there.'

‘What kind of things did you talk about?'

‘Football, mostly – he was a West Ham fan.'

‘What else?'

‘Dunno, really. This and that. He'd go on a bit like Mum does about me not having a job.' This with a worried look in Sue's direction. ‘I know I'll have to do the work experience scheme soon or I'll lose benefits. But you don't get paid for that. Slavery, I call it.'

‘But you're already getting paid!' I was forced to exclaim.

‘Exactly!' Sue cried. ‘Ta, love.'

I was not in a position to observe but had an idea that Patrick was giving Jonno a try-harder-to-remember-or-I'll-wring-your-neck look.

‘And his motor,' Jonno said eagerly. ‘He was for ever going on about that. It was always packing up on him.'

‘Did you see him just before he died?' I asked.

‘Yeah, I think it was a coupla days before.'

‘And?' Patrick prompted.

‘Well, nothing really.'

‘Look,' Patrick said, ice-capped volcano style. ‘This man was a suspect in an investigation because information about a certain criminal had gone missing, both from paper and computer files. Not only that, we know from subsequent events that personal details concerning witnesses, their addresses and so forth were leaked. That is a very serious matter. Did he not saying
anything
to you about it?'

‘No, but the last time I saw him he said something about planning to take a holiday soon, that he was owed quite a bit of leave. Yeah, that's right, he thought he might go abroad somewhere, get right away.' Another sideways look at his mother. ‘I got the idea he was going with someone.'

‘No name was mentioned?'

Jonno shook his head.

‘So, if anything, he seemed quite cheerful.'

‘Yeah.'

It made no sense.

‘Were you fond of him?' I enquired. Why this almost complete lack of interest? Or was this son of his emotionally, as well as brain, dead?

The man shrugged. ‘Not really. I felt as though I hardly knew him. He'd never been around when I was a kid. Just a bloke I talked about football with.'

We left, Patrick having given Sue his card in the event of her remembering anything she might think useful.

‘S
urely Smithson must have known he was under investigation,' I said that evening at home. ‘Had he been suspended from duty?'

‘I've asked for the full info on the case but haven't yet received it,' Patrick replied. ‘I'm guessing that he was informed and put on other duties, possibly at another station or unit. Under Project Riverside SOCA analysed five UK police operations where criminal interference was suspected and in four of them found examples of corrupt individuals including serving and former police officers. All had been used by private investigators to gain access to information. So Smithson wasn't the only one involved.'

‘It can't have been Cooper who made contact with him as he was in prison.'

‘No, I think we must assume that he's new on the scene, not remotely connected with that case, and someone who's small fry in what the criminal fraternity must regard as the sticks.'

‘But a man with ambition.'

‘Time to clip his wings.'

The information arrived by special courier the next morning and it transpired that Smithson, together with others under scrutiny, had not been informed that they were under investigation but allowed to carry on working under what was described as ‘controlled conditions'. This had been to prevent them, if indeed the suspicions had any truth in them, from warning those for whom they were suspected of carrying out ‘inappropriate actions'.

‘So why did Smithson commit suicide?' I wondered aloud. ‘Did he somehow find out that he was under investigation and was completely devastated because of being rumbled or because he was innocent and felt isolated?'

‘Or was he murdered on account of having been forced somehow, blackmailed perhaps, into accessing files, had second thoughts and threatened to blow the lid off the scam?' Patrick mused.

‘Nothing's for certain.'

‘I agree. And according to his widow he didn't drink spirits and never needed sleeping pills. That's if she isn't trying to muddy the waters due to what she perceives to be the disgrace of it.'

This was not our immediate problem, however, and there was no point in working on it further. But I still had an unsettling feeling about Jonno.

‘No, sorry, you can't interview the assault suspects – you're too close to the case as you were one of the victims and also must be aware that it's against the rules,' said Detective Inspector David Campbell when we found him in his office the following afternoon. He had been out all morning.

‘I was assaulted on account of being close to the case,' Patrick countered. ‘Not only that, I've been ordered to track down this man who likes to be called Raptor, or is using one of his aliases, who is rumoured to be an associate of Benny Cooper. These men were hired by someone and I want to know who that was.'

Campbell shook his head dismissively. ‘There's nothing yet to link the man you're looking for with this assault. The four men arrested in connection with it have been interviewed and remanded on police bail. You may listen to the recordings if you wish.'

Which we did, only to discover that two of them had only confirmed their names, refusing to answer any further questions other than to say they had been drunk at the time and could remember nothing. The third was already known to the police and his address was on file. The fourth man, who had provided an address, did not appear to have been in trouble before but had also refused to answer questions.

‘How are you going to proceed with this?' Patrick asked Campbell afterwards, his anger apparent.

‘We shall talk to them again – when they've realized the seriousness of the charges against them.'

I put a fleeting hold on Patrick's wrist on the arm nearest to me, hidden from Campbell, as a gentle reminder of his boss's instructions concerning treading on the toes of a certain DI in the sticks, and without another word he turned on his heel and we left.

‘Thank you,' I said outside, having to raise my voice above the racket of adjacent roadworks.

Patrick threw his hands in the air in a gesture of acute frustration.

‘We have their names and two addresses,' I reminded him, having written them down. ‘And Campbell was perfectly correct: for you to interview the suspects is against the rules.'

‘James might have a few ideas.'

‘And we ought to go and see how he is.'

Carrick was not there and Joanna appeared deeply worried, their daughter bawling in her arms when she answered the door. I could see that her own tears were ready and waiting and took the infant from her, taking her for a little walk around the garden, as I do with Mark. This one was not so easily mollified but ended up producing a big burp and was then much happier. After checking that everything in the nappy area was all right I laid her in her pram and strolled with it in the drive until there was every chance that she would go to sleep. Finally, I wheeled her around to the back, where I knew Joanna left her on warm days by the opened French doors, and went inside.

Carrick's one-time strong and feisty sergeant was in pieces, Patrick on the big black leather sofa alongside her but not knowing what the hell to do. I seated myself on her other side.

‘There's something terribly wrong with Iona,' Joanna wailed.

‘No, it's called baby blues,' I said.

‘And I don't know where James
is
,' she carried on as though not having heard me. ‘He's supposed to be resting but he's gone off somewhere and I'm
sure
he's going to do something awful.'

Go and make some tea,
I mouthed at Patrick behind the weeping woman's back.

He went and I put some paper tissues from my bag into Joanna's hands, she having wrung to soggy shreds the ones already in her possession.

‘Baby blues?' she queried, turning red eyes to me.

‘You must have heard of it,' I said a little too impatiently.

‘Of course. But I'm not the sort of person to get silly things like that.'

‘I had baby blues with all three of ours – only not quite so badly with Mark.' But I had still drenched my husband with abundant tears on several occasions. He hadn't known what to do with me either.

She actually gaped at me for a few seconds.

‘You do get over it,' I told her. ‘I discovered that it wasn't a good idea to take pills. Have you thought about going back to work?'

‘I thought about it when I was pregnant and decided I'd quite like to rejoin the police,' she answered, smiling sadly. ‘But now …'