Trespass (P.I. Johnson Carmichael Series - Book 2) (18 page)

Carmichael awoke to find himself in handcuffs for the second time in twenty-four hours. His head was spinning as he tried to control the feelings of nausea that accompanied the concussion he had sustained. He tried to remember what events had led to his collapse and eventually he recalled the struggle he had had with James Benold. He assumed that Benold must have hit him with a blunt object and then phoned the police claiming that the private investigator had broken into the house. That was all he needed following his questionable presence at the scene of Lauren Roper’s murder.

‘I can explain,’ he tried to say as he was led unceremoniously out of the Benold residence and placed onto the rear seat of a waiting police car.

He fervently searched for a familiar face he could talk to, and explain why he was there and what he had witnessed Benold doing. He was still looking out of the window when a stretcher was wheeled through the front door. There was a large white sheet covering the lifeless body beneath it. He felt confused. Was it possible that Benold had keeled over after he had clobbered him?

Then a second thought struck him.

Frankie
.

The stretcher was pushed along by two paramedics in uniform and was followed by D.C.I. Mercure. She had a solemn look on her face that told him all he needed to know. Frankie was dead and they had their prime suspect in the back of the car.

He watched as Mercure relayed instructions to her officers individually and then, eventually, told the officer in the front of the car to drive him to the station. He tried to make eye contact with her, but she refused to even look at him. She returned to the house as the officer started the engine and Carmichael watched in horror as she started talking to James Benold. He was no longer dressed in black, but was looking relaxed in a pair of chinos and a woollen jumper. He looked like he had been crying and he was limping slightly, probably the result of the beating Carmichael had inflicted. Mercure put her arm around him and the two meandered back inside.

Oh shit
, he thought.

*

Mercure arrived at the interview room an hour later. Carmichael had been read his rights but had declined the opportunity to have legal counsel present. He did this for two reasons: firstly, he had conducted enough interviews himself, when he had served, to know his rights and secondly, he couldn’t really afford to pay a solicitor without Frankie’s cheque anyway.

‘Can you tell me what you were doing at the home of James and Francesca Benold this morning?’ she asked, her tone firm and authoritative.

‘I was there to visit Frankie.’

‘You know Mrs Benold then?’

‘That’s right. She is one of my clients.’

‘I see, and what was the purpose of your visit?’

‘She owed me money, so I went round to ask her to write me a cheque.’

‘How long has she been your client?’

‘She hired me a few weeks ago to monitor her husband’s movements. She was convinced he was having an affair and she hired me to get photographic evidence of his infidelity.’

‘And did you?’

‘Yes.’

‘Did you speak to Mrs Benold when you arrived at her home earlier today?’

‘No, I didn’t think she was there.’

‘I see. So you spoke to Mr Benold then?’

‘No.’

‘So who let you into the house?’

‘The door was open when I got there.’

‘The door was open? So you just walked in unannounced? You have a habit of doing that, Mr Carmichael.’

He could tell she was trying to bait him and he resolved not to rise to it.

‘When I arrived at the house, I thought it was suspicious that the front door was open. I could hear some crashing noises upstairs and suspected that a burglary was underway. I quietly moved up the stairs and found James Benold trashing his own bedroom.’

‘Can you explain what you mean by
trashing
?’

‘He was pulling drawers out and throwing them on the floor. He was also emptying his wife’s jewellery into a pillow case. I got the impression he was trying to make the room look like it had been burgled.’

‘Why would he do that?’

‘I don’t know. Why don’t you ask him?’

‘He is not here, Mr Carmichael. I’m asking you.’

‘I’ve no idea. Maybe he was trying to rip off his insurance company.’

‘What happened next?’

‘We scuffled a bit and then he smashed something over my head, knocking me unconscious.’

‘He knocked you unconscious upstairs?’

‘No, we were downstairs when that happened. After the scuffle, he ran downstairs and I chased him.’

‘You chased him?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Why?’

‘I wanted to know what he was doing. His behaviour was very odd.’

‘Why did you scuffle with him?’

‘He attacked me so I defended myself.’

‘Do you know Mr Benold?’

‘I’ve had the displeasure of meeting him before, yes.’

‘So you don’t like him?’

‘You could put it that way. Let’s just say I’m not his number one fan.’

‘So you fought with him?’

‘When I caught him in the bedroom I told him I was going to phone you lot and he tried to run away. That’s when he attacked me.’

‘How tall would you say you are, Mr Carmichael?’

‘I don’t know…six foot two maybe?’

‘And you’re pretty well built, wouldn’t you say? You know how to handle yourself?’

‘That’s a fair assessment.’

‘So why would Mr Benold, who is both shorter and more slight than you, think he could beat you in a fight?’

‘You’d have to ask him that one, I’m afraid.’

‘What happened after you chased him downstairs?’

‘I saw him run into the living room so I followed and that’s when he smashed something on the back of my head.’

‘You went into the living room? You didn’t go anywhere else in the house?’

‘No.’

‘We found a muddy foot print in the dining room, matching your shoe make and size. How do you suppose that got there?’

‘Oh…well…I…’

‘Take your time, Mr Carmichael. It’s better to get your story right first time.’

‘When I entered the house I quickly scoured downstairs before I heard the crashing upstairs.’

‘I see, but you told me a moment ago that you only entered the house because you heard crashes coming from upstairs. If that was your motive for entering the property, why did you look around downstairs first of all? Surely, you would have headed straight upstairs if you suspected a burglary, particularly considering your background?’

‘I…ugh…I heard the noises but didn’t know what they were, so I looked around downstairs first to see if Frankie was about. When I couldn’t find her, I headed upstairs.’

‘And that’s exactly how it happened?’

‘Yes.’

‘It’s just, I wouldn’t want you to change your mind later on and to correct your story.’

He took some breaths:
I won’t rise to it; that would make me look guilty
.

‘That’s how it happened,’ he said evenly.

‘Okay, so just to recap the story in my mind, and for the purposes of the tape, you arrived at the Benold residence sometime before lunch?’

‘That’s right. When you released me this morning I went into town to buy some new clothes, headed to my office, found it had been burgled and that the Benold case file, including a cheque, had been taken. I suspected Mr Benold was responsible so I drove to his house to ask Frankie to write me a new cheque…’

‘You suspected Mr Benold of breaking into your office,’ she interrupted.

‘Yes, that’s right, and…’

‘That must have angered you?’

‘I was angry yes, but…’

‘What was your real reason for going to Mr Benold’s house, Mr Carmichael? You were angry when you left your office, you felt he was responsible, then, when you arrived the two of you had a fight. Do you see how that looks? Like you had gone there with the intention of confronting Mr Benold about a crime for which you had no evidence of his complicity.’

‘You’re very clever, D.C.I. Mercure. I can see what you are trying to make me say, but I assure you I only went to the house to get my money. The only reason we fought was because he attacked me first.’

‘But Mrs Benold wasn’t there?’

‘No she was not.’

‘When you entered the house, did you look in every room downstairs before you went upstairs?’

‘Yes…no…I don’t know…this concussion is making it difficult to remember things clearly. I went into the living room and connected dining room only. I didn’t go into the kitchen.’

‘What about the conservatory?’

‘There is a conservatory?’

‘Yes. It leads out past the kitchen.’

‘I didn’t know that. No I did not enter the conservatory. Why is that important?’

‘We found the body of Frankie Benold in the conservatory. She had been strangled with a cotton scarf. We are examining the murder weapon at the moment and we have located finger prints. These are being run through our database, so if there is anything you want to tell us, now would be a good time.’

‘I had nothing to do with her death. I didn’t even know for sure she
was
dead until you just confirmed it.’

There was a knock on the interview room door and a young uniform walked in and whispered something into Mercure’s ear. She terminated the interview and said there was something she needed to deal with urgently. Carmichael was returned to his cell. He was beginning to worry what James Benold may have done whilst he had been unconscious.

‘Mr Benold,’ I’m so pleased you could come down. How are you holding up?’ asked Mercure entering the private room.

‘It’s so hard,’ he replied in a strained voice. ‘I was speaking to her this morning before I went to the gym, and now…she’s dead.’

‘I appreciate this isn’t easy for you, but it would really aid our investigation into the suspicious nature of your wife’s death, if you could tell us what you witnessed?’

‘Sure, sure, I understand,’ he said, dabbing a tear from his eye. He had practiced this next bit several times already and knew just where to let his voice trail off for dramatic effect. He had concocted the plan as soon as Williams had taken the photographs of his wife shagging that P.I. She had agreed to take him back, for now, but it was on the understanding that he remain faithful to their marriage. It was a compromise he really didn’t want to make. Frankie had been a great catch but their lives had grown apart, and whilst financially they both benefited from the relationship, the truth was that both would be happier without the other. Well, that was
his
opinion anyway.

Frankie just wouldn’t understand my desires
, he had told himself as the plan to bump her off had formed in his mind and a scapegoat stepped into the limelight. He had discovered a darker side to his sexual appetite and the usual missionary position and occasional birthday-blowjob was not enough. He tended to seek out those women whom he thought would enjoy his array of toys and gadgets. After all, over half the population had read
Fifty Shades of Grey
so exploring sexual desire was no longer so taboo. There were several websites he’d secretly joined but watching videos was not as satisfying.

Frankie just wouldn’t understand
, he had reasoned. Sure, she would agree to a divorce, but then she would want half his money and he had spent a long time building his fortune, and didn’t feel she deserved a cut. After all, what had she contributed to his business success? She had stayed home with the kids but he had been the one away, days on end, taking risks and driving the business forward.
He
had earned that money, so why should she have any?

‘I drove to the gym this morning at nine and spent the next couple of hours pounding the treadmill and exercise bike. I showered and then drove home. I thought something was odd when I pulled into my driveway and saw the front door wide open. My wife’s car was in the drive, which was odd as well as she was due to go to a yoga class with a friend at ten. I approached the door as quietly as I could and as I entered I heard strange noises coming from upstairs. My gut told me we were being burgled. I am not a confrontational man, I confess, I was scared out of my mind and I decided to hide in the kitchen when I heard him coming down the stairs. It was…’

‘Go on, Mr Benold, you’re doing well.’

He took a deep breath and with his eyes scrunched up, as if he was trying to prevent himself from bursting into tears, he said, ‘It was then that I saw her body lying on the floor in the conservatory. She wasn’t moving and her eyes were wide open, so I knew that she was dead.’

‘What happened next?’

‘I must confess, something snapped in me, I was overcome by an animalistic force. I told myself that I wasn’t going to let this intruder get away with it. I heard him walk down the stairs and head towards my living room. I crept in there after him and with his back turned, I smashed a table lamp over his head. You cannot imagine the relief when he fell to the floor in front of me. I was petrified that the table lamp would do little damage and he would turn on me, but I guess I got lucky.’

‘Did you recognise the man you hit?’

‘Yes I did. He is a private investigator.’

‘What else do you know about him?’

Benold gave the impression he was choking back tears again.

‘My wife hired him to catch me having an affair,’ he said, lowering his head in apparent shame.

‘Had you been having an affair?’

Benold nodded his head without looking her in the eye.

‘I am so ashamed,’ he added for good measure. ‘I had strayed and she had asked me for a divorce. I told her I was sorry and pleaded with her to give me a second chance. I vowed to her that I would never cheat again if she would take me back. It was then that she told me she had been having an affair with the private investigator as well.’

Mercure was dumbfounded. ‘You’re telling me your wife was sleeping with Johnson Carmichael?’

Benold nodded frantically, his eyes scrunched once more.

‘She told me everything on Thursday night and we talked into the early hours of the morning. We agreed that we had both been at fault, and that we should put the past behind us and move our marriage forward. But then yesterday…’

‘What happened yesterday?’

‘Yesterday morning, Carmichael turned up at our house with the photographs he had taken of me with…another woman. He said he would publish them on the internet if I didn’t pay him fifty thousand pounds to keep quiet. I was shocked with how much of a low-life he was. My wife didn’t want to pay him but my business could not afford the scandal. Can you imagine if compromising pictures of the C.E.O. leaked out? Our best clients would leave in a flash. I told her that we would have to find the money to pay him.’

Benold wiped his eyes.

‘I told him I would get the money to him on Monday morning, but I guess he was impatient for it and came to our house this morning to find it himself. I guess Frankie must have disturbed him or something…’

‘Mr Benold, you have been very brave in coming down here today. One of my officers will type this statement up and ask you to review and sign it for us. Then, somebody will take you to the mortuary to make a positive identification of your wife, if you feel up to it.’

Benold nodded and thanked Mercure for being so understanding about his desperate situation. It was fortunate that the bruises from his earlier scuffle were hidden by his clothing.

*

‘You neglected to mention you have been sleeping with your client,’ Mercure said as the interview with Carmichael recommenced.

‘An affair? Who told you that?’

‘Is it true?’

‘No!’

‘I see, so if we asked the forensics team to undertake an assessment of the victim, they wouldn’t find any trace of your semen?’

Carmichael felt like his world was crumbling before his eyes.

‘Look,’ he said pointedly. ‘I had a one night stand with her the other night. I’m not proud of what happened but we were both a bit drunk and she seduced me.’

‘Oh very chivalrous!’

‘It’s true! I woke up at her house yesterday morning and some bloke working for Benold was there taking my photograph.’

‘How convenient.’

‘It’s true! His name was…Williams! Tim Williams. Find him and check the time stamp on the photographs; that will confirm I’m telling the truth.’

‘No it won’t. All it will confirm is that you slept with her on Thursday night. Incidentally, James Benold has just signed a statement that he and his wife were together on Thursday night and talked until early morning. He made no mention of you sleeping with his wife in between.’

‘He’s lying! Can’t you see that? He’s covering his back. I expect he was the one who killed Frankie and now he is trying to make it look like I did it!’

‘And why would he do that?’

‘He hates me for proving that he was cheating on her!’

‘Or maybe it’s because you have been cuckolding him for the last three months?’

‘Three months? Are you kidding? I only met Frankie Benold for the first time last month! You need to get your facts straight!’

‘Do I? Or maybe you need to get your story straight. It’s your word against his, Carmichael, and his case is a lot stronger than yours. This is the second time you have been before me in a day. I was willing to accept that you had been unlucky to be found in the home of Lauren Roper, but to be found in the home of a second murder victim, well, lightning doesn’t strike twice. On the other hand, Mr Benold is a respected businessman who has no motive for lying to us.’

‘
He did it
!’ Carmichael shouted, slamming his hand down on the edge of the desk. The bang echoed around the room. ‘He is covering his tracks. I swear to you, I caught him trashing his house; I didn’t know he had killed her first.’

Carmichael waited for some acknowledgement but in that second of silence, a moment of clarity presented itself.

‘Benold is a sick little man who gets his kicks by dominating women. I have photographs of him whipping one of his conquests with a belt. He has admitted to me that he watches sadomasochism online. He is a pervert! I know he killed his wife and the more I think about it, he is a strong suspect for the murder of Lauren Roper too.’

‘Oh please!’ Mercure exclaimed.

‘Don’t dismiss it out of hand…he saw her…Lauren, I mean…yesterday at my office. Ask my secretary; he made a comment about her being needy or something…that’s who he targets: vulnerable women.’

‘Why didn’t you mention his name when we interviewed you this morning?’ Davies chipped in.

‘I knew he was a pervert but I didn’t have him down as a killer…but now…now that I know he killed Frankie, I realise he could have killed Lauren too. It makes perfect sense!’

‘It may do to you, but it sounds farfetched to me.’

‘It’s him! Let’s say he followed Lauren home from my office, maybe he even offered to give her a lift…they get talking; he spins her his usual smarmy lines and she invites him in…before you know it, she is tied up and he is…well, you saw the body…check his internet history if you don’t believe me.’

‘The thing is, Carmichael, I don’t believe you,’ she replied.

‘Well I guess that leaves us at a bit of a standoff, doesn’t it?’

‘Not quite,’ she said leaving the statement hanging whilst she produced a folder. ‘This isn’t the first time your reputation has been called into question, is it?’

‘I explained last night to you this morning.’

‘Oh, I’m not talking about the Roper case, Mr Carmichael.’

‘What?’

‘Before you resigned from the Metropolitan Police, you were accused of taking matters into your own hands, weren’t you?’

‘Not this again,’ he sighed.

‘Janus Stratovsky’s body was found in a burnt out taxi cab, wasn’t it?’

He didn’t answer so she continued, ‘The man who was convicted of the murder has just been released on appeal; did you know that?’

‘It has been brought to my attention, yes.’

‘I was contacted by the Met’s
Sapphire
Cold Case team this morning to advise they are re-opening the investigation and would be coming onto our patch to speak to you. It was a courtesy call, but I told them we would not stand in their way. So it appears you are now in the frame for three vicious crimes. Why not do us all a favour and just come clean. The courts will reflect better on you, you know?’

‘How many times do I have to repeat myself? I did not kill Lauren Roper, I did not kill Frankie Benold and I did
not
kill Janus Stratovsky! There is no concrete evidence linking me to any of the crimes, so you need to look elsewhere!’

‘Elsewhere? Like Stan Pensa? You mentioned his name this morning as a possible culprit for Lauren Roper’s death.’

‘Yeah, I did. Have you tracked him down yet?’

‘In a manner of words, yes we did.’

‘And?’

‘And…Stan Pensa has been dead for the past two years. It’s true he was a former cell mate of Nathan Green, but he died of terminal cancer while incarcerated.’

Carmichael was speechless.

‘You really need to do better research,’ she continued. ‘Next time you try and dig up an alternative suspect for one of your crimes, you should check that they are at least alive.’

‘That’s impossible! A man approached me yesterday lunchtime in
The King’s Arms
in Eastleigh and warned me away from the Green family. He identified himself as Stan Pensa. I’m not making this shit up!’

‘Did he show you any identification? A driver’s licence maybe? Anything to confirm his name?’

‘Well, no, but…’

‘Can anyone corroborate that you were at the pub with this mystery man yesterday?’

‘No, I don’t…if you showed my picture to the barman; he might be able to confirm I was there. I can’t believe this is happening!’

‘It might be an idea to call your solicitor at this point, Mr Carmichael as the evidence is stacking up against you.’

‘I’ll level with you, D.C.I. Mercure,’ he eventually said. ‘Things do seem to be stacking up against me, and you’re probably pretty pleased with how the case against me is progressing; lots of loose ends neatly tied up. Heck, it’s an open and shut case, right? But doesn’t that strike you as a little odd?’

‘Go on.’

‘When I passed the detectives’ board, the first thing I was told was to trust my instinct. If something didn’t seem quite right, inevitably it wasn’t. Does this sit right with you? I know my way around a crime scene. Would I really be stupid enough to allow myself to get caught in not one, but two different crime scenes? The only reason you lot were called to Lauren’s flat yesterday was because of an anonymous phone call. Have you considered who made that call or where it originated? Am I really stupid enough to set myself up to take the fall?’