CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

 

Jon and Kate sat outside the interview room and waited for Benedict to be brought up from the Custody Suite.

‘Before we go in, Jon, maybe we should just cram what little information we have on Broome. What do we know?’

Jon opened a thin file. ‘This is what Andy English came up with. And it’s not much.’ He stared at the notes. ‘Benedict owns that flash place on the waterway. He’s been there for over ten years, and his house-keeper has a small annexe. She’s been with him for the same amount of time apparently, looks after the house and cooks etc. and other than a gardener who comes in twice a week, that’s it.’

‘And what does Benedict Broome do for a living?’

‘It doesn’t say, Guv. No mention of a job.’ He read on. ‘There’s a note from PC Goode regarding parentage. He says that he’s hit the wall trying to trace them.’

‘Sounds like a task for our Scotty, doesn’t it? Assuming that we don’t get satisfactory answers from Broome.’ She pushed her chair under the desk. ‘I just wish Toni Clarkson had not been so heavily drugged. She may have been able to pick either him or Micah Lee out in an identity parade as the person who abducted her. As it is, all she can recall is that he had weird eyes.’

‘And the word of a kid who had been fed a bag full of ‘Ooblie’ won’t exactly hold water anyway.’

‘Exactly, so let’s go see what Mr Benedict Broome can tell us.’

 

Benedict Broome was led into the interview room, but before the custody sergeant handed over his care to Kate and John, he stepped back outside and said in a low voice. ‘Keep it brief. It’s getting late for a full interview, and I ought to tell you that he’s waived his right to having a solicitor present.’

Jon shrugged. ‘That’s his prerogative, but not advisable under these circumstances.’ As they entered the room, Jon wondered what kind of man they would find.

For the purposes of the tape, the boss introduced herself, asked Jon and Broome to do the same, and explained the use of the tape recorder. Then she made quite sure that Broome understood the severity of his position.

‘I really must advise you to have a solicitor present with you, Mr Broome,’ Kate paused deliberately, ‘…considering the seriousness of the situation and the nature of the discovery beneath your property, Windrush at Roman Creek.’

The man looked at her, full eye-to-eye contact, and said, ‘I would, Detective Chief Inspector, but I’m more than willing to answer your questions. What you have discovered is horrible, absolutely devastating. I am as shocked and overwhelmed as you, maybe more, because that place was to become a sanctuary of peace and tranquillity.’ He gave a bitter laugh. ‘What chance of peace now, when I know that some evil person has used it to commit such terrible deeds.’

Benedict Broome was well-built, in the good food and fine wine to excess kind of way, wore very expensive clothes, and although not old, had the air of the successful businessman about him. He looked at them earnestly across the table. ‘And of course I don’t want to hold things up for you or myself. Frankly, having a solicitor present or not, I can only tell you what I know, and be assured that I will not hold back, and it will be the truth.’

He sat back in his chair, hands folded in his lap, and Kate looked at him for a long while before she replied. He was erudite, obviously had a clear understanding of the law, and was very different to most of the ‘clients’ that passed through custody.

‘Very well, sir. May I ask you as to whether it has been explained to you as to why you are here today?’

Broome confirmed that he was fully aware that an abducted young woman and a number of bodies had been discovered beneath one of the outbuildings and yard areas of Windrush, and as the legal owner, he and the people who worked for him would naturally be held and questioned.

‘Were you aware of tunnels beneath your property, sir?’ asked Jon.

‘Only by way of historical legend. All old houses like Windrush have secrets, don’t they? Priest holes, secret rooms and passages, cellars and yes, quite likely, tunnels. There is most certainly a sealed door from the main cellar, but that was cemented up long before I took possession. Given the age of the building, I’m sure that isn’t the only one.’

Jon frowned. ‘But surely you had extensive surveys done when the plans were drawn up for your rebuilding work?’

‘Yes, DS Summerhill, I did. But as I understand it, the underground room that contains the bodies, is not part of my present programme. If things went well and finances allowed, then I intended to go ahead with two more stages. That area would have been Stage Three, and no plans or surveys have been undertaken yet.’ He sighed. ‘And now they never will.’

‘What is your occupation, Sir?’ Kate asked abruptly.

‘I’m in the financial world. I speculate the stock markets.’

‘So you have considerable funds at your disposal?’

‘I’m not poor, although there’s never enough, DCI Reynard.’ The man’s face showed the hint of a smile. ‘Especially with a money-pit the size of Windrush.’

‘And you really won it in a wager?’ asked Jon.

‘I really did.’

‘So you are a gambler, sir?’

‘I’ve already said that I play the markets; that certainly makes me a gambler.’

Jon looked at him with interest. His voice was cultured, and his replies quick and to the point.’

‘And were you born around here, sir?’ Kate asked.

‘No, I’m not Fenland born and bred. I was born in the West Country and my family later settled in Cambridgeshire.’

‘And your parents?’ Jon asked, as Kate watched the man intently.

‘Long dead.’ he said, with no emotion in his voice. ‘They died when I was in my late teens.’

‘So who looked after you?’

‘I had help from those around me, and luckily there was money. But to a point, I looked after myself.’ He sat forward, elbows resting casually on the table between them. ‘You know the old adage, shit happens. You just have to get on and deal with these things, don’t you? I survived, that’s what counts.’

‘So what brought you to the Fens?’

‘My solicitors and I spent years trying to unravel the complexities of my family’s estate, and some while back I discovered that I owned the property in Admiralty Row. I saw it, liked it, and that was that, I re-housed the tenants and moved in.’

He sounded so plausible, but was he? Jon wished he had Rosie’s unique intuition.

For a moment or two there was a silence as the two police officers assimilated everything they had been told by the seemingly genuine Benedict Broome. Jon looked at his notes and wondered whether to throw in a question about singing, then decided against it. It would be too easy for Broome to lie, and at this early point, it was a card that he wasn’t quite ready to play. He looked up, and then stiffened.

A dark shadow stood behind Benedict. A strange amorphous mass with no specific shape, that seemed to cling to the man like some Damoclean parasite.

Jon automatically leaned back in his chair, placing as much distance as he could from the wraith.

He took a few quick breaths and tried to analyse it. It bore no resemblance to a human being, but he knew that it was connected in some way to Benedict Broome, and whatever it was, it scared him.

He glanced across to Kate and placed two fingers against his left temple, his way of telling her that they were not alone in the room. She gave him an imperceptible nod and pressed on with the interviewing.

‘Your man out at Windrush, eh, Micah Lee. He seemed rather edgy when we spoke to him. Would you know why, sir?’

‘Apparently Micah Lee had an accident when he was small; it left him with learning difficulties, DCI Reynard. He is a good strong manual worker, but doesn’t have much in the way of academic ability.’ He nodded rather sadly. ‘I felt sorry for him, and the job out at my property has given him something to focus on.  And don’t be deceived by his appearance, he’s actually very loyal.’

‘Where does he live, sir?’

‘He lodges at a farm out near out on Fendyke Village. It’s owned by a potato farmer called Tanner. Micah does some seasonal work for him and I understand that he generally helps out around the place, when he’s not at Windrush.’

Jon was still watching the wraith and trying to listen at the same time, when suddenly the thing grew faint and disappeared. A different atmosphere filled the room and he felt able to join in again.

‘Mr Broome, we need to ascertain your movements around the time when the young woman was abducted,’ he said. ‘Where were you on Friday last?’

The man considered the question carefully. ‘In the morning I was in my office at home, I do most of my business dealings by phone, and in the afternoon I took my housekeeper to the hospital for an out-patient’s appointment. I dined alone that night as far as I can remember, then I probably made some more phone calls and retired at..,’ he paused and rubbed at his cleanly shaven chin. ‘…around eleven, I should think. All rather vague, I realize, but in general my life is not an exciting one.’

‘And Elizabeth Sewell? Has she been with you for long?’

‘She came to me a week or so after I moved in. She suffers with her nerves, I’m afraid. She’s very delicate, but the solitary nature of the job suits her, ergo, it suits me. Plus, she is an excellent cook.’

The interview had been full of mundane answers that left one believing that apart from his propensity for gambling, Benedict Broome were the most humdrum mortal on the planet. But even without Rosie present, Jon knew that was not true.

Kate glanced at her watch and called the interview to a halt. ‘You must get some sleep now, but there will be more questions, sir.’

‘Of course, DCI Reynard.’ He raised his hands resignedly. ‘I am entirely at your disposal.’

As they left the room, Jon had a distinct feeling of relief that he was.

 

‘Emily has been identified!’ Scott almost vaulted over his desk to get to them. ‘She is the Latvian girl, Aija Ozolini. Stephan took her uncle to the hospital, and he gave us a positive.’

‘How’s she doing?’ asked Kate.

‘Not good, Guv. Touch and go. She’s still not breathing for herself.’

‘Well, at least she’s out of that god-damned hellhole.’ She made a mental note to make sure that young Toni Clarkson was told about Emily’s rescue at some point.

‘And Prickles has been on the blower asking you to ring him on his mobile as soon as you can, Guv.’ As Scott returned to his desk, he added. ‘This trace on Broome’s background is driving me mad, every way I approach it, I get a big fat zero. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was found under a gooseberry bush instead of being born. It’s like he doesn’t exist!’

‘Maybe he doesn’t.’ said Jon flatly.

Kate took a quick glance around and checked to see who was in earshot. ‘And is this to do with whatever was so interesting back in that interview room?’

Jon smiled darkly. ‘Possibly. There was something very nasty attached to Mr Benedict Broome; something not for the faint hearted.’

‘What like some kind of malevolent entity?’ whispered Scott, his eyes gleaming.‘I’m not sure what it was, Scotty. It didn’t show itself clearly, but I was getting a close family vibration from it, and it was clinging to Benedict like a bad smell.’

Kate looked at the two men and smiled inwardly. It seemed incongruous; the hi-tec wiz-kid and the sensitive go-between of the living and the dead. But the relationship worked, because she knew that Jon respected technology and welcomed its uses to speed up bringing the bad guys to justice, and Scotty had admitted to once having had a terrifying experience that he could never find a scientific answer for. And apart from mutual respect, they liked each other, which helped immensely.

Jon perched himself on the corner of Scotty’s desk. ‘I’m picking up something very odd about that man, and if I were you I’d change the strategy for your next search, widen your horizons.’

‘Like how?’ Scott asked.

Jon shrugged and yawned. ‘I’m not sure myself. I just don’t quite believe he’s the boring, middle of the road man that he professes to be.’

Kate yawned too. ‘Damn, it’s far too late to go see Micah Lee.’ She threw him a worried look, ‘But I think we should ring Harlan Marsh and set something up for early tomorrow. He may need to have an appropriate adult with him to safeguard his interests. After what Broome told us, I’m not too sure about that man’s mental condition, he may look like a man mountain, but he could be handicapped, and I don’t want to find any of our interviews rendered inadmissible.’

‘Dead right.’ muttered Jon. ‘I’ll ring Harlan Marsh now and get it sorted.’

Kate nodded. ‘And I’ll ring Prickles.’ She opened up her phone and punched in the number for the pathologist. It took a while to connect and then the reception was too crackly to hear properly.

‘I’ll go above ground and ring you back!’ he yelled. ‘We need to talk.’

A few minutes later he was back. ‘Ah, that’s better. The signal down there is a bloody nightmare.’ The pathologist sounded out of breath.

‘So what have you got for me?’

‘A few things, Kate. Some more important than others. First, and you really don’t need me to tell you this, but the time span between the murders confirm the escalating prowess of a serial killer. It seems that his kills were quite rare if we go back some ten years, but now, from the fresher condition of some of these girls, he’s starting to kill on a much more regular basis.’

‘So, hopefully we’ve stopped him before he goes on a spree.’

‘Possibly, but don’t forget that you’ve utterly destroyed his lair, Kate. He’ll hate you for that, and he may lose his control and kill again just to spite you.’

‘Unless I can put him away before he has the chance.’ she muttered. ‘So what else have you got?’

‘This is a small annoying thing.’ Prickles sniffed ‘On cataloguing the clothing, we find that your one remaining survivor had the wrong shoes with her, they wouldn’t fit her in a month of Sundays, and they don’t belong to any of the other victims either.’

Kate told him about seeing exactly the same thing with Toni Clarkson’s footwear.

‘Ah, that solves that. I really hate those irritating details. So, now I can proceed to something of far more significance.’ He paused, probably for effect. ‘One of my Soco’s remarked about the amount of equipment in the underground room, and how it would be impossible to have dragged it all across the marsh and down the tunnel, so…’ He paused again. ‘I’m suspecting that the owner of Windrush will use the fact that the entrance to the underground burial chamber is on the marsh, and is common land, and hence could have been used by absolutely anyone. Am I right?’

Kate told him that that point had already been made.

‘I thought so; and for that reason, I did a close examination of the room, in particular the wall construction. It is almost impossible to see with the naked eye, but one wall is plastered differently to the others, and with the halogen lamps that we have now, there is the faintest outline of a doorway visible under scrutiny.’

Kate felt a little thrill of excitement. ‘So the beds, and everything else, were brought in from an entrance located somewhere on the Windrush property itself?’

‘Oh I think so. I suggest that the room was all set up, and then the entrance sealed, either to stop anyone from Windrush stumbling upon it, or simply to make it appear that it has nothing to do with the owner. The beds are almost certainly a legacy from the time when the house was used as a sanatorium; the design and the age verify that.’ Tommy took a breath, and then continued. ‘When we hand the scene back to you, maybe your young man from the University could use some of his equipment and investigate what is on the other side of the wall?’

‘I’ll do that, Tommy. Believe it or not, he’s still here. He and one of our IT lads have their teeth buried into correlating all the underground tunnels and old structures into some sort of computerised map of the estate.’

‘Excellent. Do you think that you could you ask him if he knows of a locally-based forensic anthropologist that would be prepared to give us a hand with the oldest skeleton?  I’ve got my hands full trying to organise all this and I’m pretty sure that that lady holds some big secrets.’

‘I’ll ask him, but what do you mean ‘big secrets’?’

‘Well, I can tell you that this is not the first place where that girl was laid to rest.’

Her brow drew together in a concentrated frown. Exhumed? Dug up? ‘Can you elucidate on that? My mind is throwing up some rather bizarre scenarios right now.’

‘Probably no more outlandish than the truth, whatever that turns out to be. This lass was most definitely brought here some time after her original passing. Don’t ask me how I know, my report will fill you in on that. Just believe me, I know what I’m talking about.’

Kate let out a long exhalation of breath. ‘I’ll definitely ask Ted about finding someone to help you with her. As you said, she could be the key to what happened.’

‘I better get back, Kate. I cannot tell you how much work we have to do tonight.’

‘How are you going to cope, Tommy? I mean once you’ve got all the bodies ready to transport? The morgue is not geared for all that, plus your everyday stuff.’

‘It’s all right. I have a special facility down in the bowels of the hospital. It’s not widely known about, but it was set up yonks ago to enable us to handle a major epidemic or a natural catastrophe. It hasn’t been used for years, not since that heat wave that took so many of our old people, but right now, I’ve got some of my technicians down there getting it powered up and ready to roll. So, don’t worry, there’s plenty of room for all. Now I must go, we’ll talk later.’

She closed her phone and wondered about that first girl.

Had he murdered her, buried her, then returned much later and exhumed her body in order to place her in a hospital bed with pretty flowers on the locker? Her head spun with weird thoughts, but conjecture was getting her nowhere.

With a snort of disbelief, she went in search of Ted Watchman.

 

She found the young archaeologist still poring over ancient maps and computer print outs. On hearing about the wall and a possible door in the underground chamber, his eyes lit up and he said he’d love to investigate it. Then, to Kate’s relief, he said that one of the University’s faculty members, Professor Jan Wallace, was a brilliant forensic anthropologist, and he’d ring her first thing in the morning.

Kate ordered him to go get some sleep, and then went to look for Jon.

‘Harlan Marsh were not particularly helpful.’ muttered Jon. ‘But hopefully everything will be in place for the morning. They reckon Micah Lee is pretty flaky.’

‘Tell us something new.’ Kate screwed up her face in annoyance. ‘I really wanted to talk to him tonight, but the bloody Police and Criminal Evidence Act won’t allow it.’ She sighed. ‘But there it is; a load of wrist-binding red tape, and we are stuck with it.’

‘Don’t worry, we’ll see him first thing.’ said Jon stifling a yawn.

Kate yawned with him. ‘Let’s hope we find him a little more amenable than he was earlier.’

‘Mm, you’d think he owned the place. I’ve never seen such an angry man.’

‘Maybe a night in the cells might make him a tad more helpful.’ Kate let out a sigh, ‘Let’s go find the others, then get home. What a bloody awful day!’

They found the rest of the team in the CID room. To a man, they looked grey with tiredness.

‘Okay, guys, pack up whatever you’re doing. Our suspects have all been tucked up for the night by their custody sergeants, so we can do no more. Go home, all of you.’

‘Ready, flat-mate?’ Jon asked Gary. ‘My guest room awaits you, and so does the meagre contents of the fridge, unless you fancy picking up a microwave meal in the 24 hour supermarket on our way home?’

‘I’ve got some food in a freezer bag in my car, Sarge. I can rustle us up something in half the time that it would take to get through the checkout, even at this time of the night.’

Jon’s eyes lit up, and he smacked his lips hungrily. ‘How long did you say you were staying, my old friend?’

Kate listened to the easy banter and felt a huge relief that Gary knew about Jon’s unusual gift. At least she wouldn’t have to worry about that.

‘Night, ma’am. See you in a few hours.’

She lifted her hand as they left, and then made her way slowly to her office. She wanted to get home. To feel David’s arms around her. To look in on her boys, and see their sleeping shapes under their duvets.

But she also had a feeling that she should use the comparative quiet of the night in the police station to think through everything that had happened.

She went in and closed the door. The air condition hummed softly, and a few voices called out in different parts of the building, but compared to the day time, the office was as peaceful as an empty chapel on a Greek hilltop.

She sat at her desk, elbows on the polished pseudo-wood surface, and placed her chin in her cupped hands. She closed her eyes, and felt them sting and burn with tiredness, as if she’d rubbed grains of salt into them.

A lot of terrible and quite bizarre things had shown themselves to her in the last twenty four hours, but the main thing that she saw behind her sore, closed lids, were those little vases of flowers on the lockers.

Was it sick, or sincere?

It had to be sick, of course it did; they were talking about a cold-blooded psycho-killer. So why did that small gesture seem so, so tender? So loving?

Kate opened her eyes and rubbed them gently. She had the feeling that if she knew the answer to that, then she would be right at the heart of what had happened at Windrush.

She wished they had a profiler, someone to talk to about the intricacies of the human psyche, but this was the Fens, and in reality no-one in the smaller Forces ever had such a thing. Neither did the larger ones, if the truth be known. And even if they did, their little station wouldn’t have one because the Super was dead set against the idea of profiling. Kate wasn’t sure if it was because of the actual science involved, or more likely, the dent it would make in her budget.

Kate yawned and thought about lying in her bed with her husband’s warmth surrounding her. It really was time to go home. She stood up and slowly pulled on her jacket. The thought of David had allowed a little niggle of concern to thread its way into her mind. She couldn’t deny that he’d had been pulling out all the stops to support her this time, but how long would it last? There had been so many times in the past when she’d allowed herself to believe that everything was plain sailing on their private pond, and then she’d got home late, and David had thrown a tantrum and sunk the boat. And she couldn’t deny that she’d done her fair share of boat rocking; especially by taking everything that he did for granted.

As she picked up her car keys, she prayed that between them, they could keep the peace for a little longer. It was bad enough working in a war zone, without going home to one as well.