Death Comes First (17 page)

‘Yardley, take Molly back to her mother will you, and bring Janet Porter in,’ he commanded.

The PA had short wavy hair dyed an unnatural dark brown and cut in a severe bob. She was wearing a striped business suit and at a glance looked every inch the competent, dedicated aide. In sharp contrast to young Molly and Joyce Mildmay, she had not been crying. But then, she was
no relation to the missing boy, Vogel reminded himself. Her surprisingly bright blue eyes did, however, betray a hint of alarm.

‘Nothing to worry about,’ Vogel said briskly. ‘I only need a moment of your time, Miss Porter.’

Janet said nothing. She clasped her hands together and placed them on the table. Vogel couldn’t help wondering why everyone seemed to do that during police interviews. Most people, innocent or guilty, were nervous when interviewed by the police, particularly as part of an investigation into something as serious as the possible abduction of a child.

Janet told Vogel that she had arrived at the house at around 10 a.m., not long after Mark Mildmay, Henry Tanner and Stephen Hardcastle. They had all left the office as quickly as they could when Joyce had called them with the shocking news. Janet had remained a little longer than the men in order to lock the place up.

She seemed to have nothing more to offer concerning the immediate circumstances of Fred Mildmay’s disappearance, but there remained the matter of the delayed letter.

Vogel cut to the chase.

‘Miss Porter, something has come to my attention which I hope you may be able to throw some light on,’ he began. ‘I don’t want to alarm anyone unnecessarily at this stage, nor cause further distress to Mrs Mildmay, so I would appreciate it if you would not discuss with anyone else the matter I now wish to ask you about. Is that clear?’

Janet cleared her throat and looked even more nervous.

‘Uh, yes, of course,’ she said.

‘Good,’ said Vogel. ‘I understand that Mr Charles Mildmay left a letter to be given to his wife and read only in the
event of his death. And I think you know about that letter, is that correct?’

‘Well, yes
 . . .
’ began Janet hesitantly.

‘I also understand that it was you who forwarded the letter to Mrs Mildmay, along with an accompanying letter which I believe bears your signature,’ Vogel continued. ‘Can you confirm that?’

‘Yes,’ said Janet.

‘And when did you post it to Mrs Mildmay?’

‘On Monday. I’m certain of that, because Mr Tanner and Stephen were away from the office.’

‘This letter, bearing a clear instruction that it be passed to Mr Mildmay’s wife in the event of his death, had presumably been in your office since before he died. Given that he lost his life last November, can you explain why the letter was not sent then?’

Janet hesitated.

‘Well, I sort of can. It had been wrongly filed. It wasn’t in Charlie’s file, you see, along with his will and other papers.’

‘So how did it finally materialize? And who instructed you to send it on to Mrs Mildmay?’

‘Nobody did,’ Joyce replied quickly.

‘What do you mean?’ asked Vogel.

‘Nobody told me to send it on. I found the letter myself, misfiled. Stephen had asked me to deal with something concerning his own affairs – he’s trying to buy a new property and the mortgage company wanted to know about his life insurance – and when I went to his file to look for the policy I found Charlie’s letter there. I realized it must have got in the wrong place.’

Janet paused as if an unwelcome thought had occurred to her.

‘It wasn’t my mistake, Mr Vogel, I can assure you of that,’ she continued, suddenly going off at a tangent. ‘I had never even seen the letter before. I don’t know how it came to be in the wrong place, but I certainly didn’t put it there.’

‘I’m sure you didn’t, Miss Porter,’ murmured Vogel, stifling a smile.

Janet Porter clearly had considerable professional pride, and was not prepared to allow her competence to be questioned.

‘Please go on, Miss Porter,’ said Vogel.

‘When I saw what was written on the envelope – that it should be given to Joyce Mildmay in the event of Charlie’s death – well, I was horrified to think that it had been sitting there in our office all that time,’ Janet continued. ‘I thought it should be sent to Mrs Mildmay straight away.’

‘So you posted it on yourself, without checking with Mr Hardcastle, or Mr Tanner?’

‘Well, not exactly. As I told you, Stephen and Mr Tanner were out of the office. They were in London that day, you see. They had an important business meeting in the morning, then lunch at Mr Tanner’s club. It was about lunchtime when I found the letter. I called and left a message on Stephen’s voicemail telling him about it and asking if he wanted me to pop it in the post with a covering note, but he never got back to me, not all afternoon. I wasn’t surprised. Mr Tanner’s club lunches are legendary. Anyway, both Stephen and Mr Tanner trust me to use my own initiative – indeed, they encourage me to. So when it came to five o’clock I phoned Stephen again and left a message saying I would put the letter in the post unless I heard from him to the contrary. I didn’t hear from him, so on my way home I dropped it in the post box opposite the office. It seemed the right thing to do. And I was
afraid that if Mr Tanner found out about the letter being in Stephen’s file, he might be angry with Stephen. He has rather a temper on him, you see. Also, I didn’t want to keep the letter from Joyce any longer
 . . .
’ She looked at him quizzically.

‘Shouldn’t I have done that, Mr Vogel?’

‘You were doing what you thought was the right thing, Miss Porter,’ said Vogel, his tone noncommittal. ‘Did you not get any response whatsoever to your phone messages?’

‘Oh yes, eventually,’ replied Janet. ‘Stephen called me at home a bit later on. His voice was a little slurred – those London lunches are inclined to be rather liquid. Mr Tanner never gets the worse for wear, but his guests always do.’

‘What did Mr Hardcastle say when he called you?’

‘He asked if I’d already posted the letter. I told him I had.’

‘And what did he say to that?’

‘He didn’t say anything much that I remember. Just “right”, or “OK”, or something. Then he said he’d see me in the morning. And goodnight, I suppose. Nothing much. Why?’

Vogel ignored the question.

‘Did you not think it strange that he called you at home to ask if you had posted the letter?’

Janet looked surprised.

‘No,’ she said. ‘I assumed he was making sure that I had. After all, it was embarrassing that we’d kept it all that time, in the wrong file, without anyone knowing it was there.’

Without
you
knowing it was there, thought Vogel.

Aloud he asked: ‘Were you aware of the contents of the letter, Miss Porter?’

Not for the first time during the interview, Janet looked shocked.

‘Of course not! It was a sealed letter from a dead man to his widow. How on earth would I know what was in it?’

‘Indeed,’ murmured Vogel ambiguously. ‘What about Mr Tanner and Mr Hardcastle? Do you think they knew anything of the contents of the letter?’

‘I have no idea,’ said Janet, but Vogel could almost see the wheels turning as she considered this. Then her expression hardened.

‘If you are suggesting that either of them would have opened a letter of that nature and then resealed it, I can assure you that you are totally wrong, Detective Inspector. Neither Mr Tanner nor Stephen would ever do such a thing. In any case, I’m not sure Mr Tanner knew of the existence of the letter. Stephen was Charlie’s personal solicitor as well as representing the company. Presumably Charlie gave the letter to him. And Stephen always does things by the book. He would regard that as confidential, I’m sure.’

‘No doubt you are right,’ replied Vogel, who thought just the opposite.

So that was it then. The letter had been sent on to Joyce without the prior knowledge of either Tanner or Hardcastle. And Vogel was pretty sure that both men were aware not only of the existence of the letter but of its contents, and that they had deliberately refrained from sending it on to Joyce. But why had they kept it, albeit filed in a place they thought was safe? Why hadn’t they destroyed it? And if they had destroyed it, would young Fred Mildmay still be safe at home?

He thanked Janet Porter, reminding her that she should not discuss the letter or anything pertaining to it with anyone else, then told her she could go back and join the others, or was free to leave the house if she wished.

As Janet headed back to the kitchen, Vogel made his way to the sitting room, where he found Tanner and Hardcastle sitting at either end of one of the two big settees. PC Bolton was standing by the door, and Vogel hoped that this uniformed presence might have given the two men cause to feel a little less self-assured than they had been earlier.

Tanner and Hardcastle stood up almost in unison as soon as Vogel entered, and looked at him expectantly. The DI kept his expression stern and tried to sound as officious as he hoped he looked.

‘Gentlemen, I am afraid I need to interview you both on record,’ he announced. ‘I must ask you to accompany me now to Lockleaze police station.’

Tanner’s face was expressionless. This was a big-game player, thought Vogel. No doubt about that.

Hardcastle, the lawyer, was the first to speak: ‘Mr Vogel, are you arresting us?’ he asked.

‘No, sir, merely asking for your cooperation. I am sure you are both as eager as I am to find young Fred, and as I believe you have information which could be extremely helpful, I feel it would be beneficial to all concerned to conduct our interviews in a more formal situation where everything that you tell us will be digitally recorded and can therefore be properly assimilated.’

Vogel was replying to Stephen Hardcastle’s question. But he stared straight at Tanner. The older man returned the stare without so much as a flicker.

Hardcastle began to speak again. ‘Well, I’m not sure about that, Detective Inspector,’ he said. ‘As I told you, I am the family solicitor, as well as an old friend, and as such I feel I should advise my client that neither of us are under any legal obligation at this stage to—’

Tanner held up one hand, effectively silencing Hardcastle. ‘It’s OK, Stephen,’ he said, still staring unblinkingly at Vogel. ‘You are absolutely right, Detective Inspector. I am more than willing, indeed I am eager, to cooperate in any way that might bring about the speedy return of my grandson. And I am sure that Stephen, whilst correct as my lawyer to point out our rights, feels the same way. So if you believe that it would help to interview us at a police station, then I am happy to accompany you there. As Stephen will be.’

The last sentence was not even an instruction, more a statement of fact.

Stephen Hardcastle merely nodded his agreement.

‘Thank you,’ said Vogel. Then he turned to Bolton: ‘I want you to drive us, Constable Bolton,’ he said. ‘PC Saslow has been appointed FLO, so she will stay here and continue with her duties. PC Yardley, I’d like you to stay here with her, please.’

Turning his back on Hardcastle and Tanner, he leaned towards Yardley and added in a whisper, ‘You’re both on a watching brief, OK?’

Yardley nodded.

Vogel led the way out of the house, with Hardcastle and Tanner immediately behind him and PC Bolton bringing up the rear, and all four men climbed into the squad car parked outside.

No one spoke during the journey. There was considerable tension within the small Ford. And that suited Vogel perfectly. The more unnerved these two men were, the better his chances of getting answers.

Ten

Felicity Tanner heard an engine start and the sound of a vehicle pulling away. Neither the paved drive nor the gravelled area at the front of the house could be seen from the kitchen window. She glanced enquiringly at her daughter, who stared blankly back at her.

Joyce was not her normal self at the moment. Felicity realized that you could not expect a mother whose child had gone missing to behave in a manner that could, by any standards, be described as normal. However, something had been bothering Joyce even before Fred’s disappearance. And when she’d told Henry, he’d been concerned enough to immediately get on the phone to her. But he hadn’t been surprised. In fact Felicity could have sworn he’d been half expecting it.

‘Joyce?’ she asked. ‘Who was that just leaving? Has the Detective Inspector interviewed your father and Stephen yet? What’s going on?’

Joyce shrugged her shoulders and said nothing. Felicity Tanner was about to question her further when PC Bolton entered the kitchen. Instead she turned her attention to him.

‘I heard a car leave,’ she began.

‘Yes, DI Vogel asked your husband and Mr Hardcastle to
accompany him to a police station for a video interview,’ explained PC Bolton.

Felicity looked alarmed.

‘Have they been arrested?’ she asked, her eyes wide with shock.

‘No, they are helping us with our enquiries, that’s all,’ responded Bolton.

‘Please don’t worry,’ interjected PC Saslow. ‘This is routine procedure. As your FLO, I will remain with the family and talk you through anything that is worrying you.’

Joyce looked up. ‘My son is missing, that’s what’s worrying me,’ she snapped.

Dawn Saslow flushed and mumbled an apology.

Felicity felt sorry for the young PC, but even more concerned about her daughter. She tried to put an arm around her. Joyce pulled away.

When Charlie died, Felicity had been the person Joyce turned to for comfort. She wished she could do the same now, and just couldn’t understand why Joyce had been so prickly of late, and why, even now, she was rejecting her parents instead of welcoming their support.

Felicity was also well aware, in spite of PC Saslow’s bland reassurances, of the significance of asking someone to attend a police station instead of interviewing them at home. She read crime novels and watched detective series on TV. They were her diversion from real life, particularly on the days when Henry’s perpetual lack of communication got her down. Which it frequently did, though she was careful never to let on.