Corpse in Waiting (10 page)

‘Look, I might be being naive here, but I've never associated New Zealand with the likes of the Capellis.'

‘That's what they hope everyone thinks though, isn't it? These people are branching out everywhere.'

‘Sorry, I can't come up tonight. Matthew's playing in the school concert.'

‘That's OK. Bennett's being detained overnight and brought here for ten thirty tomorrow morning.'

‘What shall I tell him about your absence?' I asked evenly.

‘Oh God, I'd promised to be there, hadn't I? You'll just have to tell him the truth, that I'm working. I'd actually forgotten all about it.'

‘There's time if you got a train soon. Why don't you come home and we could both travel up early tomorrow morning?'

‘No, sorry. I'd like to but I've arranged to meet an old army chum for dinner.'

Why was I doubting his word? Why did I wonder if Alexandra had checked out of the hotel in Bath and was heading back to her flat in town?

David Bennett was furious. Livid. He was a big man with a florid complexion, untidy fair hair and was, I guessed, in possession of a bullish demeanour normally, never mind his present anger. He occupied a chair in the interview room but gave every impression of being about to detonate from it at any moment. It was probably only the presence of Patrick, who had positioned himself between Bennett and the door, that kept the man from raging around the room, the interviewer exuding a healthy menace.

‘Right,' Patrick said, shooting me what I shall describe as a brief professional smile, this nothing to do with any difficulties that might exist between us, but to make it appear that I was merely one of the tiny cogs in SOCA's machine and not his wife, current squeeze, or whatever. This was normal practice with potentially serious criminals to prevent any possible revenge being visited upon me should he happen to half screw their heads off. ‘This is Miss Langley. With your permission she will take notes. You may object if you wish.'

Bennett just scowled at me which I interpreted as a ‘that's fine by me.'

I knew that Michael Greenway was listening to the interview in an adjoining room and watching through the one-way glass window that gave every appearance of being a large mirror on the wall of the room we were in.

As I had entered I had assessed Patrick very quickly but carefully. There did not appear to be any signs of post-coital bliss but then again he is a master of the art of schooling his facial expression.

He formally opened the interview and started the recording machine. ‘Let's be quite clear on this,' he opened the proceedings with, ‘When you've been questioned here, and whatever our conclusions are, you'll be taken to Bath and handed over to Detective Chief Inspector Carrick who is heading the investigation into the discovery of the body of a murdered woman at 3, Cherry Tree Row, Lansdown Hill, Bath. Is that understood?'

‘I've been abroad for months,' Bennett grated. ‘Which could have been proved if you'd bothered to go to the trouble. This isn't anything to do with me.'

‘And I'd like to remind you that there's already a charge of resisting arrest and striking a police officer.'

‘I'd been drinking. And anyway, I hit your shoulder – no harm done.'

‘That's only because I have good reflexes,' he was told with a nasty smile. ‘To resume,' Patrick continued, ‘I received an email from the DCI early this morning to the effect that you were the registered occupant of the house, both for council tax purposes and on the voting register, for a period of three years up until thirteen months ago.'

Bennett took a deep breath, stared at the ceiling for a moment and then decided to cooperate. ‘I was listed as the occupant, but I wasn't. At least, only for a short while. The place was a tip, unfit to live in. I kept an eye on it because I knew it would be mine one day as my aunt's leaving it to me in her will.'

‘Where did you live?'

‘I rented a small flat in Claverton, little more than a cupboard really. You haven't even told me who's been killed.'

‘Her name was Imelda Burnside.'

Bennett's eyes narrowed. ‘
Imelda!
'

‘She was known to you then.'

‘We went out for a short time.'

He did not seem to be at all upset.

‘She lived with you when you were at the house?'

‘Yes, for a bit.'

‘Did you break up?'

‘No, I got fed up with the conditions there – Imelda wasn't too keen on housework either – and rented the flat at Claverton because it was all I could afford at the time. It wasn't big enough for both of us.'

‘Did you let her stay on at your aunt's house?'

‘Yes, she'd lost her job.'

‘And?'

‘She got another one quite quickly and said she'd pay the utilities so I let her stay on for a little longer. Then I got a letter from her to say that she hated the new job and was moving, going to live with her sister.'

‘When was this?'

‘About a year ago – not all that long after I'd moved out.'

‘Do you know the sister's name?'

‘If I remember rightly it was Irma.'

‘Where did she live?'

‘She didn't say.'

I said, ‘Was your aunt aware that she was living at her house?'

‘I didn't bother her with it.' He added, but openly resenting my interjection, ‘She probably wouldn't have approved.'

‘But you don't go to see her now.'

‘How do you know that?'

‘Please answer the question.'

‘No,' Bennett said after a pause. ‘What the hell's the point? The woman's just a cabbage now – finished.'

‘Would you say that your aunt's fond of you?'

‘What a stupid question,' the man said scornfully. ‘Yes, very – or she used to be when her brain was all right. Otherwise she wouldn't be leaving me her house, would she?'

‘What is your business, Mr Bennett?' Patrick asked.

‘I do a bit of this and that. I've a couple of properties in Christchurch that are rented out. My mother was of New Zealand nationality so I've a dual passport. Over here I own three flats over shops in Bearflat, Bath. Sometimes I take a temporary job or buy and sell stuff on the Internet – if I want extra cash.'

‘And yet you say you rented a “cupboard” as times were hard. How was that with rent money coming in?'

Bennett grimaced. ‘The tenants of two of the flats over here stopped paying the rent saying I hadn't done any repairs. It wasn't true and I had an idea they were in the plot together. It took months to get them out and one of the flats was trashed. Cost me a couple of thousand to put it right.'

‘That must have made you pretty angry.'

‘Oh, I know who they are.' He realized that statement could be misconstrued. ‘I mean, I'll not have them as tenants again.'

‘Let's return to Imelda. Was she close to her sister?'

‘God knows. She didn't really mention her.'

‘So you don't know anything about her at all.'

‘No.'

‘Is there any doubt in your mind that Irma actually existed? Could they have been one and the same woman?'

‘I haven't the first bloody clue.'

‘Did she ever mention a man by the name of Martino Capelli?'

‘No. Look, what is all this about? I only went out with the woman for a short while and—'

‘You don't seem remotely upset about the fact that she's been murdered,' I fired at him, loathing him for his general callousness. ‘Her decapitated and badly decomposed body was found in the larder of the house and her head was in a cupboard upstairs. Did she actually lose her job again and couldn't carry on paying the bills? Did she refuse to move out as she had nowhere else to go? Did you get drunk again and go round there to chuck her out only for everything to get out of hand?'

‘No!' Bennett gasped.

‘Tell us what happened in New Zealand when you were convicted of assault,' Patrick asked silkily.

‘I – er – I—'

‘I already know. You got drunk and beat up your girlfriend who suffered extensive bruising, contusions and a broken jaw. You were sent to prison for six months, a sentence shorter than it might have been because, according to witnesses, she was blind drunk as well and had come at you with a broken bottle.'

Bennett sullenly remained silent.

‘It's DCI Carrick's job to find out if you're guilty of Imelda's murder,' Patrick continued. ‘My interest is with the victim herself in case she did lead a double life. Where did you meet her?'

‘In a pub somewhere.'

‘Think!'

‘In Bristol.'

‘You picked her up.'

‘She wasn't a tart!'

‘No, of course she wasn't,' I said. ‘You got talking, she was flat broke and desperate and you offered her money for sex. She turned out to be quite useful along those lines but you fell out when she got fed up with clearing up after you, cooking your meals and washing your socks because actually you're a complete slob!'

‘It wasn't like that!' Bennett bellowed.

‘What did she do for a living?' Patrick said quickly, in a tone that represented a slapped wristie for me. Throwing any petrol on to the flames would be his prerogative.

‘I'll tell you that only when you've had that woman removed from the room!' A quivering forefinger was pointed in my direction.

‘Oh, good, we're getting somewhere,' Patrick murmured. ‘She stays. Answer the question.' He gave the man a freezing stare. ‘Otherwise . . . I shall find it difficult to remain . . . patient.'

‘She worked in retirement and nursing homes,' Bennett muttered after a long pause.

‘I would have thought there was a constant demand for people like that in the Bath area with so many retired folk living there. And yet from what you say it seems she was often out of work.'

‘Imelda could be a bit stroppy,' Bennett said after consideration. ‘If she didn't like someone she told them so. Perhaps it didn't go down too well.'

No doubt he had had first hand experience of that.

‘You mean she was rude to the clients?'

‘Oh, no. To the staff. If she thought they weren't treating people right. They don't you know, they drug 'em up if they get difficult and slap them around. She used to tell me about it.'

‘What else did she tell you?'

Bennett shrugged. ‘Well, I don't know. I didn't pay much attention, did I?'

‘Think.' The word dropped into the room like molten lead.

‘Well – well, about her day really. She didn't talk about her past, if that's what you mean.'

‘What, not about her childhood, parents, friends?'

‘No.'

‘Didn't you find that a bit strange?'

‘I can't say I was that interested.'

‘Although this might have been at a time before such stringent checks were made on people who work with the vulnerable, do you think it's remotely possible that she kept losing her job because they discovered she had a criminal record? I want you to think very carefully about that.'

‘She did hate the cops. One cautioned her in Union Street once when she called him a bastard. No reason for her to do that really.' He chuckled humourlessly. ‘Except that you are – all of you.'

SEVEN

‘
H
e could easily have killed her,' I said later. ‘The man
is
a complete slob.'

‘I agree, but whether he did or not is for James Carrick to find out,' Michael Greenway said. ‘Thanks for coming, by the way.'

Patrick said, ‘She and Irma could have been one and the same woman. She had a criminal record and moved to the West Country to start a new life, changing her first name. But I do have to ask myself why she didn't change her surname as well.'

‘We must be very careful here,' the commander said to him. ‘There might be a sister. If not and it is the same person it doesn't appear that Bennett's aware of, or been involved with, her past life. But I still have to have the true state of affairs confirmed.'

‘Are there no DNA samples of Irma in view of the fact that she has a record?' Patrick wanted to know.

‘No, it happened quite a while ago when she was in her late teens and before the technology really kicked off. Since then, other than having a dodgy boyfriend, she seems to have stayed out of trouble. There are fingerprints, yes. But we can't compare those with the body as it was too badly decomposed.'

‘Do I get the feeling you want me to go and find out if Irma still exists?' Patrick queried.

‘Yes, but don't make a career out of it and leave no trace if you get into her last known address in Romford, Martino's flat. I don't want there to be any suspicion that it's being watched. Is that clear?'

‘Of course.'

‘It's a nice quiet little number for you while you're still off main ops, but three days, no longer. I can't throw any more money at it than that on the strength of snouts' gossip.' He gave us one of his big smiles, which suited him perfectly as he was a big man, around six foot five. ‘Take Ingrid. She can watch out for Capelli honchos for you.' He chuckled.

I was last out of the room and he called me back.

‘Is that OK?' he whispered a little anxiously.

‘You have a woman's intuition,' I said, no louder.

‘Coming from you I'll take that as a compliment. What's the problem?'