Treble Clef, page 12
part #8 of DCI Cyril Bennett Series
“According to the boffins, that was placed there after the ears had been removed. If you recall, the other lobe was left in situ. They believe that this might have been deliberate to allow the insertion.” Cyril tapped the skull on the photograph. “We know the lobe still present had a piercing that hadn’t been used for some considerable time. Whoever killed these two is playing some kind of game, not only with these players…” He again tapped the photograph. “… but with us. He’s the virus, the alien or zombie. He might even be Massiah’s Duppy but he’s controlling the game and he wants to see if we can stop him.”
Owen was not accustomed to his boss being so dramatic and it shook him a little. “How can we be players if we don’t know the mechanics of the game he’s supposed to be playing?”
“We need to find those players from the escape game. We need to locate our mystery figure and organiser, Colin Boardman.”
***
“We simply didn’t see eye to eye, DS Richmond.” There was a pause that seemed to linger too long. “If you don’t mind my saying so it seems strange to be confronted by a Miss Richmond when here we are… in Richmond itself.”
“We should thank our lucky stars it’s not April as that’s my Christian name.”
Quinn turned to look at his boss and then back at the seemingly elderly lady nursing a cat and a cup and saucer on her lap. He simply smiled.
“Was there a serious issue between you and Carruthers?”
“My husband initially thought it a good idea that we rent the apartment we have attached to this building. Originally this was my mother’s home and when we married, she kindly let us have the flat. Sadly, she died in a tragic accident. What she was doing on the stepladders at her age we will never know. I was out shopping and when I returned there was a note to say she’d been rushed to the hospital but sadly…” She allowed her hand to stroke the cat before taking a sip of tea.
“So, you then took the house on her passing?”
“Yes. We kept the flat in case friends or his brother came for the weekend but as my husband said, it was empty ninety per cent of the time and when he retired it seemed sensible to rent it out.”
“So was Kevin Carruthers the first person to rent?”
“We tried holiday lets at first but that was just hard work. You’d never comprehend how some folks leave a place. No, that didn’t work and so we advertised locally. Within a week Kevin had looked round and put down a deposit, his first month’s rent on the flat. He was with the Co-op, if I recall, an apprentice.”
Quinn was growing a little frustrated and wanted to ask why they had fallen out, where her husband was and what were the finer details of her mother’s accident, but he knew his place and remained silent.
“So why did he leave?”
“He was told he must leave. We suddenly kept noticing people coming round in the evenings and staying until all hours. I don’t know if I should say this but, put it this way, Kevin wasn’t the masculine sort.” She paused and looked at both officers in the hope they would understand. “You know.” She put out her arm and lowered her hand. “A little limp of wrist we used to say. I thought he was up to no good, a knocking shop my husband called it. After a while we confronted him. We used to check the flat initially but it was always immaculate and so we stopped. Well, we had the shock of our lives when we went in. One room was painted totally black, black! I kid you not! There were cabinets full of the most disgusting creatures and a row of skulls on a shelf that would fill a graveyard. Gave me the willies I can tell you.”
Quinn could not resist a smile and received a subtle tap on his foot from April.
“Did he explain?” April knew just how to extract the information at the correct pace for Quinn to note down.
“Games, he didn’t have a TV, strange boy, but played games. He wanted us to believe all of these callers were other members of the gaming group. He apologised and said that he’d no idea he was causing upset and he would look for accommodation elsewhere. We just accepted his offer and gave him a month’s notice. He didn’t need it as he moved out within the week.”
“When was this? Did you know where he went?”
“Must be over a year. My husband left not long afterwards, about thirteen months I think. How time flies. Tempus Fugit. I think Kevin took further lodgings but I can’t tell you where.”
April shot a quick glance at Quinn.
“You say your husband left too?”
“Yes, a week or two after Kevin, maybe it was even a little less than that, one forgets. We hadn’t really been seeing eye to eye for some time, probably since he retired, always under the feet and a bit of a bully if I’m to be honest. I don’t know if I should say this but…” She paused. “No, if that got out I’d be embarrassed. I reverted to my maiden name when he’d gone. Brooke. Felicity Brooke.”
“And your married name?”
“Boardman.”
April turned quickly to Quinn. “Notify Bennett and then come back.”
“Have I said something wrong?”
“No, not at all. May I call you Felicity?”
“Of course, but I’d prefer Fliss.”
“Fliss, three things, firstly did your husband leave you for another woman?”
“Woman, goodness me no. Let’s just say he liked being with the boys.”
April was perturbed and it took her a minute to get her thoughts in order. “Did you rent the flat after Kevin or had the experience been too disturbing?”
“I didn’t rent it again, in fact, I didn’t touch it.”
“Finally, I’d like to show you some photographs and let’s see if you recognise anyone.”
Fliss put her cup and saucer on the small table and pushed the cat from her lap. “Now let me see these photographs.”
Chapter Eighteen
For Alan Bowen the day was dragging; Tuesdays offered nothing. The weekend seemed so far off. He recalled the game in Harrogate. It had been close. He then thought of the character in the pub. Dipping his hand into his pocket he brought out the blue figurine he had given them. His phone signalled that he had a message.
We met in the pub the other night in Harrogate. You said you were keen gamers. I’ve a friend with the ultimate escape room. You don’t just get an hour you get longer but the stakes are higher too. Still interested? Meet me on Saturday by the library steps on Victoria Avenue at 7.00pm. Just you. If you’re unsuccessful we’ll challenge your mate at a later date. No need to reply to this message as you’ll either pick up the gauntlet or you’ll not show, either way, no hard feelings. I’ve booked you a room at Grants B&B on Selby Drive. Sorry, you’ll have to pay for that but it’s cheap and cheerful. Check in after 3pm if you wish to take it. Remember, if you’re successful the celebrations will be massive. If you work Sunday, you might want to book a day off from work too! Make a note of the time, place and accommodation. Don’t tell David. Call him if you’re successful and offer him the same challenge.
Good Luck!
P.S. Bring the figure I gave you as it might be one of the clues.
Bowen reread the message before fumbling for a pen and writing the date, time and name of the accommodation on the back of his hand.
Within five minutes the message had been removed.
***
“Quinn, sir. We’re in Richmond at Carruthers’s digs and we’ve just found out the name of Carruthers’s landlord is Boardman. DS Richmond instructed me to notify you immediately and that further info would follow as soon as we have it.” Realising he should have asked for a Christian name too he had to think on his feet. “Hopefully we’ll have a photograph and we’ll post as soon as.”
Back in the lounge, Fliss perused the pictures. “That’s Kevin without a shadow of a doubt. He seemed such a lovely lad at first. How is he?”
April paused surprised by her question. Kevin’s murder had been in all the papers. “He’s dead, Fliss. He was murdered. That’s why we’re asking about his past. I just assumed…”
It was clear from the expression on her face that she was totally oblivious to Kevin’s demise. At that moment Quinn returned.
“Is everything okay, ma’am?”
April nodded.
Quinn looked across at Felicity Brooke and then at April. “I’m sorry to have to ask you this but do you have a photograph of your husband and can you tell me his Christian name?”
Felicity looked older than she had minutes ago. What was going round in her head was anyone’s guess. She returned Quinn’s gaze. “I do and his name’s Colin. He’s not killed him has he?”
Both April and Quinn felt a flush of excitement and that emotion clearly contrasted with that of their interviewee.
“We have no reason to believe he has anything to do with the case but we do need to clear him from the investigation.” They waited for Fliss to collect herself and focus her thoughts.
“He certainly had enough of a temper on him but he usually managed to control it. He trained in the army as I’m sure you’re aware. Now, where did I put that horrible man’s photograph?”
***
Every time Alan Bowen thought of the challenge his stomach fluttered. He had tried to retrieve the message but it had been deleted. It made him think of James Bond. Read and memorise, 007, then dispose of this message, he said to himself trying to mimic Sean Connery’s Scottish twang. If he had needed anything to alleviate the boredom then such a challenge was beyond what he had imagined. To win and then challenge David to beat his time was just the icing on the cake, he thought. He checked his watch. Should he tell David that he had been the chosen one, the one to lead or should he just do it and inform him when he was successful? He would consider the situation.
***
April had photographed the picture of Colin Boardman and sent it to Bennett via her phone. She then checked the notes Quinn had made. “I wasn’t expecting that, Quinn.”
“Me neither, ma’am. How old would you put her at? The cat on her knee made me think of a grandmother but then grandmothers can be in their thirties these days.”
“Fifties, possibly, my guess would be early to mid. Looking at the photograph I assumed Colin to be older having been retired some time, but that could have been taken a year or two ago. We’ll soon have those details when the census is consulted. Last known whereabouts…” she read the notes. “Here we are… lived around the Harrogate area or possibly Pateley Bridge. What area does that cover, Quinn?”
They sat in the car, reflecting on the meeting.
“A lot.” He stared down the road. “Pretty place to live this. These properties must be worth a bob or two.”
“Not another woman she seems to think.”
“A man? Thought that straight away when she said he’d buggered off almost immediately after Carruthers left. Whoever it was I hope they had more brass than this Ms Brooke. My dad retired at fifty-five.”
“Sorry?” April put the notes on the dashboard.
“He could be about fifty-five, Boardman. As I said my dad retired early. He’d saved sufficient funds and he’d had enough. Can’t blame him. I’ll go as soon as if the money is right.”
“No, about the man?”
“It was just when she said he’d gone. They’d lived under the same roof for ages as the flat was integrated. She wouldn’t have known if something was going on. She didn’t seem to know much about what actually killed her mother!”
“You might have a point, Quinn.” She noted it.
Quinn started the car. Glancing back at the house April saw Felicity Brooke watching them from the window. She was not hiding the fact she was there. It was then Quinn saw her raise a hand and wave. Instinctively, he waved back. “Funny woman that.”
“Knowing what I know about our two victims and trying to weigh up Ms Brooke, there may be more to Kevin’s leaving than meets the eye.”
***
On their return, the information regarding the Boardmans was already up on one of the boards. The census had revealed two people living at the Richmond property and that Colin Boardman was ex-military. His forces’ records, also presented, showed that for some time he had been stationed at Catterick Garrison. It was assumed his proximity to Richmond was how he and Felicity had first met. Felicity Boardman was registered as a housewife. Their ages were fifty-eight and fifty-three years respectively. They had lived on Newbiggin since 1997, married in the same year and prior to that she had lived in the property with her parents. His parents had divorced when he was twelve and since then he had lived with an elder brother in York.
“Probably drifted into the army as a teenager,” Quinn suggested as he fingered the attached sheets. “Wonder if he went to the army training college, the one out Penny Pot way?” He thumbed through the records. “Yep. Here it is, he trained in something to do with the signals. It was then called the Army Apprentices School when he attended. Didn’t stay for that long. He transferred for further training to Catterick. Medical discharge in 1981. It says see medical records. Do we have them?”
“If we have, they’d be there.”
Quinn flicked through the sheets of paper. “Nope, not here.”
April went to the phone on the desk. Within minutes she returned. “Should be with us by the end of the day. More initiative is needed, Quinn.”
Quinn was unsure whether that was a mild chastisement and looked at his notes. “What about his brother…?” His voice tailed off as he saw Bennett and an officer enter. His question had fallen on deaf ears anyway.
Cyril walked in with DC Dan Grimshaw.
April smiled. “Find him in the car park, sir? I recognise him but can’t say I remember his name. Didn’t he used to work here?” There were a few chuckles.
Grimshaw had been on annual leave but had then fallen off a stepladder whilst pruning a tree in his garden, necessitating a further month off.
“Welcome back. How’s the leg?”
Grimshaw held up both arms. “Wrists, plural. Not easy, and certainly not pretty. You find out fairly swiftly who truly loves you when you’re incapacitated in such a way. I didn’t see many people rushing from this office in my hour of need but I’m grateful for all the cards and the odd bottle.” His smile said it all and it was clear for all to see he was happy to be back.
“Funny that.”
“What’s funny?” Cyril looked at Quinn.
“That’s how Felicity Brooke’s mother died. Fell off a stepladder…” he left a suitable pause. “Allegedly.”
Although the comment was not lost on both April and Cyril it was on Dan.
“I’ve missed the sincerity and warmth of this place.”
Cyril had been looking at the boards during the conversation. “April, please make sure Dan’s up to speed. I’m away for a couple of days from tomorrow and…” he did not finish. “Boardman, still nothing? No address? Collection of money, pensions? Use of credit cards or bank? Phone calls? Did we get his mobile number from…” he paused. “Felicity Brooke, Boardman as was?”
“Small army pension goes directly into his bank. That’s all we know. The manager gave us no further information other than there’s been nothing drawn on the account since before the two murders. However, they did say and I quote, A significant amount was withdrawn two weeks previously. We only managed to ascertain that because it’s a murder enquiry and we were concerned for his welfare. Sometimes this data protection makes getting relevant information more difficult than drawing bloody teeth. However, they have agreed to watch all transactions on all accounts, even Felicity’s, in case he’s using hers.”
“He’s either being supported or he’s dead,” Grimshaw interjected, his tone quite matter of fact. “Man cannot live on bread alone.” He winked at Quinn and smiled. “Have we met?”
“Something else you’ll read in the report. He may have been having an extramarital relationship before he left Richmond, male or female, we have nothing as yet to say either way.” April smiled. “Now, DC Quinn, known now as Quinn, meet DC Dan Grimshaw. Shake his hand but be careful, we’ve only just got him back.” April winked.
Cyril stepped in. “We’re looking at CCTV and cross-referencing not only with facial recognition technology but also some experimental Super-recognisers who, they tell me, are highly skilled in analysing and therefore comparing unfamiliar faces. They’ll be starting with the images captured from the escape rooms. We’ll then move on to those taken on the night of the murders. Maybe he was at the convention or simply out and about. It may take time.”
As Cyril left, April turned to Quinn. “Stepladder, that’s initiative, another example of your clever thinking. Find out the circumstances of her mother’s death. Check if there’s a coroner’s report.” She touched his elbow and smiled. “Good work, Quinn. Jolly good work.”
***
He ran a hand along the painted surface. The delicate use of stippling had given the wall a look not only of age and dirt but also wear, as if it had been occupied by many a prisoner. The graffiti, scratched and drawn, gave a reality to the room’s décor, as did the pin-up pictures set at rakish angles. Some were worn and torn whilst others were defaced. The small shelf of books and the white toilet bowl in the corner, installed to be functional, also gave an air of authenticity and there was nothing here that would not have featured in a cell used in the seventies. It had to be remembered that many were the legacy of the Victorians. The door was not heavy, not made from steel but the clever use of paints and laminates gave it a convincing appearance. The concave viewing window, however, was now replaced with a small camera, one of three positioned covertly within the room. It would all be observed, it would all be recorded. Why else go to so much trouble? After all it was only a game!
There were three other small rooms created within the building. The green mile, the area just outside the door, was tight and dark. Lights positioned along the base of the wall clearly emphasised the deliberate use of old, green linoleum. Although only metres in length it led to two doors. The way the player interpreted the questions and the clues would determine which door they would enter. One door contained a large warning sign. Dimming the lights, adding the smells and then the sounds would be the final touches.
