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“CAN EVERYONE PAY ATTENTION, please?” At the front of the briefing room, Sam paced from side to side with his hands in his pockets.
“I don’t need to tell you that we’re still no closer to finding out who killed Gordon Campbell or Bruce Connery. Every time we’ve had a lead, it’s taken us down a dead end. So we’re going to sit here, all of us, and brainstorm this until we find one thing that we’re missing, and hope it’ll lead us somewhere else.”
He tapped the board with his pen. “Apart from the deceased, there are pictures of four people up here, all of whom have a connection to Bruce, even if it’s just a tenuous one. Now, using that as a starting point, and bearing in mind the current speculation that there’s already a connection between the deaths of the two men, we’re going to see if we can come up with any solid evidence that links one to the other.”
“But I’ll start with the victims.” He pointed to Gordon’s picture. “So, it appears that the person who killed Gordon wasn’t too bothered about whether or not the dish they took from him—the priceless dish, I might add—remained in one piece. Had they been, it’s unlikely they’d have used it as a weapon.
“Moving on to Bruce Connery. We know that whoever killed him was callous enough to kill him and bury him in concrete, but wasn’t tempted to take his wallet full of cash, nor his gold ring.”
“So not an opportunist thief, then?” said Paul.
“Doesn’t seem to be, said Sam. “Both these crimes seem to indicate that while the perpetrator was prepared to take a life, they had no interest in benefiting financially as a result of the death of either victim.
“Next, Vince Berman. Now, as Mr Berman is someone who, by his own admission, lives a modest lifestyle and shuns any trappings of wealth, I thought it might be useful to pay him a visit. However, although he knew both victims, we haven’t been able to establish any motive he might have had for wanting either of them dead. That doesn’t mean we should discount him from our enquiries, just that from what we know so far, he seems to be an unlikely suspect.”
“Moving along, we have Eddie Landon, who happens to be Vince Berman’s father-in-law. Now, Eddie didn’t know Gordon Campbell very well, but he did know Bruce Connery and, I think it’s safe to say, he wasn’t a fan, even though Bruce used to put a lot of work his way.”
“And did he say why he wasn’t a fan, boss?” asked Paul.
“Allegedly, Bruce wasn’t a very nice man; he was thought to be involved in some shady goings-on, and he had quite a temper on him. Eddie said the village was a nicer place to be after he disappeared. Again, though, we’re not aware of any motive he might have had to kill either man.”
Sam moved to the third picture. “William Donahue. Now, of all the people on this board, Mr Donahue is the only one with what we know could be a credible motive to kill Bruce—he was in love with his wife, Martha. He also told us that he was delighted to see the back of Bruce.”
“Yeah, well, he would have been, wouldn’t he?” said Trudy. “Once Bruce was out of the picture, and his own wife had passed away, he didn’t waste any time in becoming Martha’s companion, did he? And, as you’ve said, boss, love’s the oldest motive for murder in the book.” She scratched her nose with the end of her pen. “Although... William was away on holiday his wife and Martha when Bruce was killed, wasn’t he? So he can’t be the killer, can he?”
Sam shrugged. “Well, that’s how it seems. At the time of Bruce’s death, William Donahue was away on holiday... but only an hour away. It’s possible that, if he’d really wanted Bruce out of the way, he could have driven back to Bliss Bay, done the deed, and been back at the holiday chalet without anyone even noticing he was gone. He’s been keen to remind us that he was playing golf from the minute he arrived at the chalet until he drove Martha back to look for Bruce, and therefore, couldn’t have had anything to do with the murder. But it’s not impossible that he was involved.”
He moved to the final picture on the board. “And finally, Martha Connery, who has the biggest connection to Bruce of all, although she’s given us no reason to believe she had motive to want either her husband, or Gordon Campbell dead. You could argue, though, that she had the most to gain from Bruce’s death. A quiet life, a nice house, money in the bank, and freedom to do whatever she pleased.”
“That might be why she never remarried,” said Paul. “Maybe she’s only entitled to what’s in the bank account while she’s a Connery.”
“Possibly,” said Sam, nodding slowly. “Quite possibly.”
“What I find really odd about her,” said Trudy, “is that she had that shop for almost fifty years and didn’t know it had an air-raid shelter in the basement. I mean, come on.”
“Why would she lie about it?” asked Paul. “Why would she say she didn’t know it was there if she did?”
“Er, because her husband was in it, up to his neck in concrete, perhaps?” Trudy raised her eyes so high, they almost rolled back in her head.
“But if she’d known Bruce was in the air-raid shelter, why would she have sold the shop to Lydia Berman and risk him being found?” said Paul. “If I was Martha, and I’d wanted to retire, I’d have kept the shop and just locked the door. And, anyway, even Lydia said she didn’t know there was a shelter in the basement because it had been covered with a big heavy chest. It’s possible that’s the reason Martha didn’t know, either.”
Trudy shrugged. “I suppose it’s possible, although Lydia Berman’s only had the shop for a few months, not fifty years.”
“And Martha wasn’t around when Bruce was killed, either, remember?” said Paul. “She was on holiday, too.”
“Maybe she hired a hit man to do the job,” said Trudy.
Sam grinned and slipped an indigestion tablet between his lips. “Well, if you figure out who it is, let me know.”
“By the way, that golf shot that Bruce never let anyone forget,” said Paul. “How difficult is it?”
“A hole in one on a par-five?” said Harvey. “No idea. I’m a rugby man.”
“It’s so difficult, that in all the years I’ve been playing golf, I’ve only ever heard of one person getting that score,” said Trudy. “What I wouldn’t give to get a Condor.”
The room fell eerily quiet.
“What did you say?” asked Sam. “Just now, about the golf.”
“It’s so difficult, that in all the years I’ve been playing golf, I’ve only ever heard of one person getting that score.”
“No, the bit after that.”
“What I wouldn’t give to get a Condor? It’s a golfing term, boss. You know how some scores are named after birds, like eagle and albatross? Condor’s not one you hear very often, though, because it’s so rare for anyone to get it.”
Sam clamped his hands to his head. “Trudy, it may have escaped your attention that we’ve been wracking our brains recently, trying to figure out the significance of the graffiti left at the cold case crime scenes.”
Trudy went a little pink. “Oh. Right. Sorry, boss, I was on a completely different train of thought. I was thinking about what Condor could mean in terms of art theft, not golfing terms. So, do you reckon that means Bruce Connery was the Condor, then?
“Well, he was obviously very proud of his achievement because he never stopped talking about it, by all accounts, so I’d say that makes Condor a very fitting alias. And if Bruce really was the Condor and he stole the dish, that would make the dish the tangible connection between him and Gordon Campbell, not to mention a very likely motive for murder in either case.”
“It still doesn’t explain why his wallet and ring weren’t taken when he was put in that air-raid shelter, though,” said Trudy.
“Well, when you’ve just stolen an antiquity worth hundreds of thousands of pounds, a wallet and a ring pale into insignificance, probably,” said Paul. “Which must have been why they were left.”
“I reckon Bruce used the shelter to store his ill-gotten gains,” said Trudy. “That’s probably why he was at the shop.” She gasped. “Maybe that’s what he had to do the day he was supposed to be going on holiday? He was going to put the dish in the shelter for safekeeping, but he got nobbled and the dish got nicked?”
“That’s a very credible theory,” said Sam.
The station door opened and a man entered, raising a hand to the assembled detectives. “Afternoon. Is there any chance I could speak to someone about Gordon Campbell’s murder, please?”
“Certainly, you can speak to me,” said Harvey, getting up from his desk and shaking the man’s hand. “Shall I take him up to your office, boss?”
Sam shook his head. “It’s okay. Take a statement down here. We’ll carry on with the meeting later.”
Harvey nodded and pulled up an extra chair at his desk. “So, what can I help you with?”
The man rubbed at his sideburns and looked fretful. “Well, I wanted to let someone know about something I saw the morning the man was killed. It’s probably nothing, but something just jogged my memory when I was driving through the village, so I thought I’d come straight here and let you know.”
“Okay,” said Harvey, starting to write. “What time would this have been? An approximate time will do.”
“It was twenty-to five precisely,” said the man. “I work shifts at The Spire Hotel in Oxeter, so I’m often travelling home at around that hour, and it’s rare to see anyone out and about in the village—on foot, anyway—so I looked at the clock. That’s why I remember the time.”
“And what did you see?” asked Harvey.
“I was almost home, and I saw someone walking up the road ahead of me. I didn’t think much of it at the time—and like I said, it’s probably nothing—but I remember noticing that they were walking quickly. It sounds so stupid now I’m saying it.”
“Not at all,” said Harvey. “We never know what’s going to take an investigation in the direction it needs to go, so we take everything on board. Is there anything else you can tell me? Could you see if it was a man or a woman? Or anything about their physical appearance?”
“I’m sorry, no,” said the man. “I really only took a fleeting glance. I can’t remember anything about them, apart from that they were walking quickly.”
“Could you say if they were power walking, as though they were exercising?” asked Harvey. “Or was it just walking quickly, as you might do if you were caught in the rain and wanted to get out of it?”
The man shook his head. “I’m not sure, but if I had to give an answer, I’d say the latter.”
“And did you happen to notice if they were carrying anything?”
The man shook his head again. “Sorry I can’t be more helpful.”
Harvey smiled. “Everything you tell us is helpful. A final question. Could you tell from which direction the person had come?”
“Well, they were walking from the direction of the village square, but I can’t be more specific than that, I’m sorry. They turned into the residential home, though, if that’s of any use.”
Harvey’s head snapped up. “You saw the person turn into the home?”
“Yes. That’s when I dismissed it as nothing suspicious. I mean, it was either a member of staff or a resident, and I wouldn’t have thought either of them would be a suspect in your investigation. Like I said, it’s probably not even important, but my wife thought I should mention it.”
Harvey rose from the chair and shook the man’s hand. “Thanks for coming in. We appreciate you taking the time.” He saw the man to the door, then turned and looked at the expectant faces staring back at him.
“Well, if that’s not the first solid clue we’ve had, I don’t know what is. We need to search every inch of that home to see what we can find.”
Sam nodded. “Agreed. And as a delay in obtaining a warrant could result in evidence being moved or destroyed, I’ll speak to the powers that be to request that the search is allowed to go ahead without one.”
“You know what, boss?” said Harvey. “I have a feeling we’ll save ourselves a lot of time if we look in Eddie Landon’s room first. You remember when we went to speak to him, and he sat on that wonky old bedside cabinet and almost took a tumble because one of its legs is shorter than the other three? Why would he do that when there’s a comfortable bed to sit on?
“Not that we were there looking for anything at the time, but looking back, it was as though he was standing guard over that cabinet. Quite a defensive action when you think about it, but what did he have to be defensive about?”
Sam nodded again. “Noted. We’ll start with Eddie’s room.”
ººººººº
Forty minutes later, Sam took a call from the station asking if he could contact Megan Fallon urgently.
As the short search at the residential home had been concluded with the best possible results, and he was now on his way back to the station, Sam was in a chipper mood when he returned Megan’s call to see what was so urgent.
He put the call on speaker and as he and Harvey listened to Megan and Des recount their stories, his good mood evaporated with every revelation.
“And when I saw Martha about an hour and a half ago, she said she was going to pop in to the bridal shop to see Eddie later on this afternoon,” said Megan.
“Thanks for letting me know,” said Sam, his expression grim. “We’re on our way.”
