The Paderborn Connection (13 page)

On Saturday morning Sue's friend Helen arrived in her husband's estate car and the two of them set off for Bernard Joyce's flat. Sue opened the door and they went in.

“How do you want to do this Helen?”

“Clothes first I think”. Sue had brought several large black sacks and they started to go through his things.

“If we just put everything on the bed, I'll put the things the shop will take in one sack and the rest can go in another sack which we'll take to the recycling textiles bin. We'll start a third sack for things that can't be recycled.”

*

In next to no time they had sorted and packed all of the contents of the wardrobe and chest of drawers. Sue went out to the car and fetched the cardboard boxes she had got from the supermarket the afternoon before. Helen took one of the strongest into the kitchen and they packed the crockery and glasses, some of the saucepans and most of cutlery. Helen put the rest of the kitchen cupboard contents including the plastic containers, some chipped egg-cups and a corkscrew without a handle straight into the rubbish sack.

They went through the rest of the flat sorting out ornaments, framed pictures and the like, putting them into either the rubbish or the charity shop sacks. Finally they put the towels, sheets and pillow cases into the textile recycling bag.

In less than an hour all that was left was the furniture, Helen said the shop would collect that, if she could have the key, there would be no need to be there to meet them.

They started to carry the sacks out to the car when Mick and Ronnie arrived.

“Morning Helen and good morning to you as well Sue, you're looking gorgeous as always,” said Ronnie, Micks best friend for forty years.

“What in these old jeans and last year's jumper, I don't think so.”

Helen smiled at Sue who just rolled her eyes up to the sky.

Sue went into the flat whilst Helen supervised the loading into the car, making sure that she knew which sacks were for the shop and which were for the Household Waste Recycling Facility, or the tip as everybody called it.

Mick joined Sue and said “is everything all right” when he noticed a reddening of her eyes and a tear running down her cheek, which she quickly wiped away.

“Yes, I'm all right, it just seems so sad that somebody's personal possessions can be packed up and disposed of so quickly like this.”

“I know sweetheart but it has to be done.”

They left the girls to finish off, apparently it was vitally important to clean the kitchen and bathroom floors and put bleach and disinfectant down the toilet and in the sinks and bath, before they left.

“Just need to pop round to the Undertakers with Dad's suit on the way Ronnie.” They dropped off the clothes and soon got to Edmonton, parked in their usual spot and strolled to the pub.

They went through the time honoured rituals of shaking hands and greeting familiar faces. One face was not familiar however although he was standing next to and talking to a group that Mick knew.

“How's it going Mick my old mate,” said one of the group, a man about the same age as Mick.

“Not bad, not bad at all Dean,” replied Mick, this was neither the time nor the place to tell the group that he had just lost his father.

“This is Divesh,” said Dean,” he's over here visiting his brother, my next door neighbour, he wanted to see a premiership match and as our Gary is in Dublin for a stag do I said he could use his ticket.”

“Where's home then Divesh?” said Ronnie, never one to beat about the bush.

“Mumbai” said the young Indian man.

“Is that in Pakistan?”

“No, India,” replied Divesh. “It used to be called Bombay.”

“So what line of business are you in?” asked Dean. The answer stopped Mick dead in his tracks.

“I'm a diamond cutter.”

“What you mean like a diamond geezer” said Ronnie, causing gales of laughter from the group.

“No,” said Divesh, sheepishly. “My uncle owns a jewellery manufacturing business and I work for him.”

“Didn't know they made quality jewellery in India,” said Ronnie adding quickly, “No offence mate.”

“That's alright,” said Divesh, actually Mumbai is one of the world's major producers of quality jewellery as you describe it.”

The conversation moved on to talk about the match and the day's opponents.

“Should be an easy three points,” said Dean. Mick nodded but his mind was elsewhere. He made a mental note to get on the internet on Monday morning, he wanted to know everything there was to know about jewellery manufacturers in Mumbai.

They walked to the ground and went into the West stand through a turnstile for season ticket holders. They took their seats and had the usual banter with the fans sitting nearby, most of whom they knew by name. They sang their songs and chanted their chants as the game ebbed and flowed. The match finished one nil to Spurs.

“Well at least it's three points,” said Ronnie. They drove back, Mick dropped him off then carried on home where he pulled onto the drive, went indoors and into the lounge.

Sue was at the desk in the corner on the laptop,

“I'm just writing to the council telling them we've cleared the flat and won't need to go in after Tuesday.”

“Why Tuesday,” asked Mick.

“Because Helen's arranged for the furniture to be collected on Monday.”

“Did you take everything to the shop and the tip OK?”

“No problem, apart from having to queue for ages at the recycling bins. Incidentally you had a letter from the Gas and Electricity people today,” she said handing him the letter.

Mick opened it anticipating a problem but was pleasantly surprised.

“Everything sorted, they've even sent a cheque made out to me for one hundred and sixty four pounds thirty one pence.”

Sue entered the amount in a little book she had bought, underneath the entry reading ‘cash in biscuit tin Eighteen hundred and forty five pounds'

“You're a star,” said Mick kissing her on the back of her neck.

They had a pleasant evening, a couple of Gin and Tonics, and a chicken casserole with a nice bottle of Chablis. Mick fell asleep in the armchair, Sue drew the curtains and sat reading a paperback for an hour. She looked across at Mick, stood up and walked over to his chair, kissed him on the forehead and said, “Come on, bed time.”

Sunday was a quiet day in the Joyce household, the weather was getting cooler than of late so they had a lie-in till eleven, then got up and dressed ready for a couple of hours in the garden. Mick mowed the lawns whilst Sue weeded the borders and dead-headed the flowers. At half past one they went in and showered. Sue said she didn't fancy cooking, so they went for a carvery at a country pub.

On Monday morning, Mick got into work before eight, he was anxious to make a start researching the Mumbai diamond jewellery manufacturers. A few minutes later Bob, a Q.P.R. fan, walked in and exchanged some banter with Mick about the week-ends football. Andrew and Emma got in at the usual time just after eight thirty.

“Did you two have a good night on Friday?”

“Yes thanks Michael, very pleasant” replied Andrew. “We thoroughly enjoyed the show but there was a bit of an incident in the pub afterwards.” He recounted the events and said the Met might get in touch, a Sergeant Ray Moore was the arresting officer and we gave him your name Michael. He wants us to write up our statements and send them to him.”

Andrew and Emma sat at their desks, typed out their statements and sent them to Sergeant Moore.

Andrew's phone rang, it was the hotel owner in Cologne ringing back. He confirmed that there were always two people staying in the room booked by Phillip Austen and eating breakfast together. Furthermore his wife confirmed that the two people in the photos were the same two people who stayed on the list of dates. She remembered one particular Saturday in April as it was their daughter's birthday and they had a party that night which the ‘English couple' joined them for. She remembered that Phillip Austen spoke very good German, the woman less so.

They always arrived separately, he always entered the same car registration, a German registered white Volvo. She usually drove a red Audi TT but on one occasion in May she was driving a blue Ford Focus with a British number plate. The hotel owner gave Andrew the registration number who thanked him for his time and the trouble he had gone to. After some small talk Andrew said thank you again and hung up.

He gave Emma the blue Ford Focus number so that she could check who it was registered to. Just minutes later she announced, “the blue car is registered to Mrs Sylvia Morrison in St Albans”.

“Right Bob,” said Mick “I want everything you can find on Sylvia Morrison at the address we now have. I want confirmation that she is Karen Hennessey's mother, does she still live there, does she live alone, has Karen Hennessey been there recently.”

Bob said he would go there immediately and scout around, make a few discreet enquiries at the local shops, it was important that they didn't alert Karen Hennessy until they were sure of their facts and could arrest her, if indeed she was staying with her mother.

Mick told Andrew and Emma about the chance remark in the pub on Saturday about the diamond connection to Mumbai in India.

“I'm hopefully closing in on Karen Hennessey so I'll leave you to do the research on Mumbai if you think it's worth pursuing. I think I read that the two company accounts in the UK had addresses in Harrow and Birmingham. The one in Belgium was in Antwerp and the one in Germany is in Frankfurt. Both Harrow and Birmingham have large Indian populations. I seem to remember something about Antwerp also having a sizeable Indian community.”

“So does Frankfurt,” said Andrew.

“So is it possible that the diamonds first arrive in Germany and are then taken to one of these four cities for a final onward journey to Mumbai?” said Mick.

“It's definitely worth pursuing,” said Andrew “I was never entirely happy with the idea of them being taken to the diamond houses in Europe, the security is far too tight.”

*

Mick rang Rachel asking for a meeting to update her. She told him to come up at two o'clock. He then rang West End Central and asked to speak to Sergeant Ray Moore. He was told that he wasn't on duty at the moment but when Mick explained who he was and why he was ringing he was put through to an Inspector Kuzak.

“Sorry to bother you Inspector, it's about the incident on Friday night outside the Blue Boy involving one of my D.C.s and a Lieutenant in the Military Police temporarily assigned to us. We're in the middle of a murder enquiry at the moment and I just needed to check if you will need them to come in and make further statements.”

“I don't think so Inspector, we've just received their statements which seem fine, they tie up with what witnesses told my officers and it all seems pretty well clear cut. Incidentally, the youth we arrested is known to us and in fact is on bail for another violent assault a few weeks earlier.”

“I guess the court case won't be for some time will it” said Mick, more in hope than expectation.

“Impossible to say but as soon as I know something definite I'll let you know.”

“Hang on Bob, I'm not seeing the boss till two. I'll come with you.” They drove the short distance to St Albans, somewhere Mick knew well, “next right isn't it Bob?”

“Should be, then second left.”

They found the address and drove past as slowly as they dared without attracting attention.

“Pull in over there in front of those shops,“ said Bob.

Mick parked the car and Bob went into the newsagents, bought some chocolate and looked in the window outside which was full of adverts. One was for a room to rent in a house two doors away from Sylvia Morrison's. He made a note of the telephone number and returned to the car.

“Have you found something Bob?”

“Possibly, the house next door but one to our Mrs Morrison is advertising a room to rent.”

“We need somebody to go and have a look, get chatting to the householder, I don't think you or I look like we might be future tenants.”

“What about Emma?”

“Probably our best bet,” said Mick.

They drove around for a while, then went to the St Albans police station.

Mick walked in to the front office and a young Constable behind the desk asked if he could help him. Mick took out his warrant card, at the same time introducing himself

“D.I. Michael Joyce, is Sergeant Ken Phillips around?”

“Not today sir,” was the reply.

“How about Don Grady or John Shilton?”

“I think Sergeant Grady is here Sir” said the Constable reaching for the phone. “Hello Sergeant, front desk here. I have Detective Inspector Joyce here asking to see you.”

Don Grady walked in a couple of minutes later,

“Morning DI Joyce, to what do we owe the pleasure?”

“I'm on a murder investigation at the moment and there is a possibility that our suspect is in St Albans.”

“Come in here “said Sergeant Grady, leading him into an interview room.

Mick took out the photos from his folder and put them on the desk. The man, the murder victim, is Phillip Austen, or to be exact Captain Phillip Austen of the Royal Military Police based in Paderborn, Germany. The woman is the suspect, she is Major Karen Hennessey of the Medical Corps, United States Army based in Ramstein, Germany. Major Hennessey was actually born in England and her mother, Mrs Sylvia Morrison, lives here in St Albans.

In the days before committing the murder in Stevenage, Karen Hennessey took leave from her post in Ramstein but has not returned nearly three weeks later. We have reason to believe that she may possibly be in hiding at her mother's at this address” said Mick handing over the address.

“I need to establish if in fact she is there before making a move to arrest her. She is in the Military, albeit in the medical corps, but has killed once, I don't want a major incident where innocent people might be injured. I don't have to tell you Don that secrecy is paramount, if it gets out that the police are watching the house, she might well get wind of it and we'll never find her.”

“I understand perfectly Michael, what do you want me to do?”

“I've got a plain clothes officer who's going to go and look at a room to let two doors down, I'm also going to send one or two other plain clothes officers to casually drive by or walk past the house to try and establish if there is more than one person living there. If you could ask your lads to keep a lookout for Major Hennessey and let me or DS Bob North know at Hatfield if you see her.”

*

They drove back and Mick gave the details of the room to let to Emma,

“Give them a ring will you and make an appointment to see the room, try and get in there before four o'clock when other family members might be around. If you can get the lady of the house on her own and get her chatting, you might just pick something useful up.”

At two o'clock Mick and Andrew went to see Rachel. They ran through everything that had happened and what they had learnt since their last meeting but just as Mick was about to tell her about his visit to St Albans that morning, her phone rang. It was the front desk, she picked it up and said brusquely, “I'm in a meeting at the moment, can whatever it is wait for half an hour?”

“Sorry ma'am but I think this must be important, there is a gentleman from the South African Embassy here with a package for Inspector Joyce which he needs him to sign for.”

“Very well, bring him up to my office will you.”

She turned to Mick and said

“You have an important visitor, somebody from the South African embassy with a package that he wants you to sign for”.

There was a knock on the door and she called out “come in.”

Sergeant Milken entered first followed by a very distinguished looking man, pin-striped suit and old school tie. Steve Milken introduced him to Mick Joyce and then beat a hasty retreat.

Mick shook hands with the man and then introduced him to Rachel and Andrew.

“Good afternoon” he began “my name is Johann Brummer from the South African Embassy in London. This morning we received two packages, which I am told contain identical information, through diplomatic channels from Bloemfontein.

One was addressed to Brigadier Fredericks of the Royal Military Police, which a colleague of mine is delivering right now, and this one is for you Inspector Joyce. If you would be so kind as to sign here please,” he said handing Mick a form. Mick quickly read through it and showed it to Rachel. She said for Mick to sign it. The South African, who spoke with a definite accent but not so strong that they couldn't understand him, said, “thank you very much, I won't disturb you any longer.”

Rachel escorted the man down to the front desk personally.

Andrew said “It must be the report from the Bloemfontein police.”

They waited for Rachel to return before opening it.

“I thought you were dealing with the South African Police Andrew?”

“I am Ma'am but when Colonel Swanepoel said he would send me a full report of the raids on the suspects I asked him to mark it for the attention of Inspector Joyce in case there was an officer who didn't know me on duty when it arrived.”

“You certainly think ahead don't you Andrew.”

“Yes Ma'am, I try to.”

“Anyway Inspector, you were telling me about your visit to St Albans.”

“Yes Ma'am, we've traced Karen Hennessey's mother to an address and there's a possibility that she might be hiding out there, we know that in the past she has borrowed her mother's car and driven it to Germany in fact.

I called into the St Albans station and had a word with Sergeant Don Grady asking him to keep an eye on the address and let me know if there is a sighting of Karen Hennessey.

“Sounds as if you're making very good progress, what's your next move Lieutenant?”

“Well I will go through the information we have just received from South Africa, they seized a lot of documents so there may be a lead to the couriers that Captain Austen was using, including Karen Hennessey of course, which I will immediately pass to Inspector Joyce.”

“And you Inspector?”

“All our efforts are now concentrated on finding Karen Hennessey Ma'am.”

“I assume you've exhausted all the possibilities on the National Police Database?”

“Absolutely, Ma'am, the problem is that Karen Hennessey has not lived or worked in Britain for thirty years.”

Turning to Andrew she said “I hear you and D. C. Stavely had some excitement on Friday evening.”

“Just a little ma'am, some youths out looking for trouble. I tried warning them off but their ringleader wouldn't take the hint and when he came at me with a knife I had to disarm him and put him down on the ground. D.C. Stavely and I have given statements to a Sergeant from the Met.”

*

That evening just as Mick was finishing his evening meal, the phone rang. “Michael Joyce speaking.”

“Good evening Mr Joyce, Donald Makepeace here, I believe you were expecting my call.”

Mick thought for a second, he couldn't place the name and then it came to him “Yes Mr Makepeace, it's about my father's funeral isn't it?”

“That's right, when would it be convenient to come and see you?”

“Tomorrow or Wednesday evening would be fine.”

“Can we say Wednesday evening about seven thirty?”

“Yes, that's fine Mr Makepeace.”

Mick told Sue and asked if she would be around, he'd like her help in making any decisions about readings, music and so on.

“No problem,” she said.

Mick went to his collection of C.D.s looking for suitable classical music. He chose several pieces and listened to the first couple of minutes of each. He was looking for something that had an air of solemnity without being too depressing and lasting for no more than four minutes.

He made his first choice, Adaggio in G Minor by Albinoni. It lasted nearer to five minutes but it could be faded down towards the end, he would have to discuss that with Donald Makepeace.

For the second choice he wanted something very personal to his father, something by Perry Como that his father used to sing along to. It was called something like ‘I love you so'.

“Sue, is that second hand record shop still in business, a few doors down from your office?”

“Yes, one of the girls in the office is always buying things from there,”

“Do they sell C.D.s?”

“Yes, I'm sure they do, a few days ago she bought a boxed set of Johnny Mathis C.D.s for her father's birthday.”