Broken Dreams (11 page)

I went into the kitchen for beers. I needed a drink.

He took the bottle and thanked me. ‘Pretty basic place this, isn’t it?’

‘It’s how I like it.’

‘I think they call it minimalist.’

I sat back down in the chair next to the window. The sky was darkening and promised rain.

‘Did you have life insurance on your wife?’

‘Do I have a motive for wanting my wife dead?’

I nodded. That was exactly what I meant.

He told me they had policies out on each other. I knew it wasn’t uncommon for married couples to have such policies, so a surviving partner would have some financial security should disaster strike. I also knew money made for a powerful motive. The police would be looking closely at the circumstances surrounding the policy.

‘What kind of marriage did you have?’ I was asking blunt questions but it was the way things had to be.

‘How do you mean?’

‘Happy, stormy. What was it like for you?’

‘It worked. That was the main thing.’

Murdoch looked embarrassed. I took a mouthful of beer and waited for him to explain.

‘We had an open marriage’ he eventually said. ‘To be honest, it was more Jennifer’s idea, but I can’t say I was complaining. We set ground-rules. We’d only sleep with other people at this club we were members of. It kept the spice in our marriage, if you follow me.’

I nodded. A swingers club. I’d heard about such places, but half-thought they were urban myths. I’d led a sheltered life, obviously. ‘Did your wife have any special friends, if that’s the right way of expressing it?’

‘One or two regulars, if that’s what you mean.’

‘Did those relationships extend beyond the boundaries of the club?’

‘No. We had rules about that kind of thing.’

It was something to look into, though, however adamant he was. Motive was the key to understanding why she had been killed, and the club sounded like an interesting development. I always kept a notepad by the side of the chair and I scribbled down a few basic details about the place. The place to start would be their website.

‘Why are the police watching you?’ I asked. It was the question I was waiting to ask, but I wanted to settle him in first. I watched him slowly place his bottle in his lap and shake his head.

‘What do you mean, watching me?’

He tried to look surprised, but I had the measure of him. He wasn’t the most convincing liar I’d ever met.

‘The police were watching your house.’

‘How do you know?’

‘It’s what I do.’

‘They weren’t watching me.’ He tried to sit upright, but the alcohol was taking effect and making him drowsy, as he slurred his words. ‘Or my wife.’

He wasn’t making much sense and I watched him fall asleep. Rain was now beating on the window, so I found a spare blanket and threw it over Murdoch. He could sleep himself sober and let himself out if he wanted. I sat back down and thought about my wife, and reflected on how Murdoch saw us as having something in common. I didn’t feel comfortable with it, as he was still a major suspect in the murder of his wife. I didn’t know whether he was innocent or guilty. After a few moments of reflection, I stood up and paced the room. I had to get out for a while. I looked at Murdoch, snoring on my couch. He wasn’t going to wake up any time soon. I threw my coat on and headed out.

From the outside, the Rischio casino looked inviting. Neon lights flashed as the rain came down and it looked like it would pass for a relatively up-market establishment. Once inside, it was clear it was all about the business. The decor was tatty around the edges, the carpets sticky underfoot, but it didn’t seem to be bothering the handful of people stood around the roulette and blackjack tables. I looked at my watch; it had just turned ten o’clock. I nodded at the barman and ordered a soft drink. He couldn’t have been much out of his teenage years.

‘Terrible weather’ I said. I looked around the room. ‘Not too busy, then?’

‘It’ll get busier later. Once the pubs start to empty a bit.’

‘Make the boss happy, I suppose.’

He stared at me and passed me my drink. ‘I suppose.’

‘Worked here long?’ I asked. 

‘What’s it to you?’

I laughed. ‘Just making conversation.’

‘Are you a journalist?’

‘Private investigator.’ Sometimes it’s better to tell the truth.

‘That’s a first. There’s been one or two journalists kicking about the place, as well as the police asking about the murdered woman. She used to come here.’

‘Spoken to any of them?’

‘Not me.’

‘I could make it worth your while.’ I could tell the kid was nervous. ‘No harm done. Just a chat.’

‘I knock off in ten minutes.’ He lowered his voice. ‘We’re treated like shit in this place.’

I arranged to meet him in a near-by pub, thinking it was easily done.

Thirty minutes later I placed a pint of lager in front of him. His name was Sam Carver, Hull University student and part-time barman. I assumed he was also in need of money, as he was willing to talk to me for not much more than the price of a drink.

‘Cheers’ I said.

‘Cheers.’

I picked it up where we’d left it. ‘You were saying Jennifer Murdoch was a regular in the casino.’

‘She was. The first few times I noticed her, she was with her husband. After a while, I started to notice she was coming in by herself. Not many women do, so she stood out a bit.’

‘What did she play?’

‘Blackjack mainly. Easy to play; easy to lose a lot of money at.’

‘She mainly lost?’

Carver laughed. ‘All the punters do. Basic rule.’

I accepted his point. ‘Was it a problem?’

‘Depends what you mean. If you mean, did she owe a lot money, then yes, she had a problem. If you’re asking whether Mr Johnson thought it was a problem, then it wasn’t a problem.’

‘Who’s Mr Johnson?’

‘Dave Johnson. He runs the casino.’

‘For Frank Salford?’

Carver confirmed he did. ‘It’s very rare we see him, though. Johnson runs the casino.’

‘But she was allowed to run up debts?’

‘Seemingly so. My mate works on the blackjack tables and he said he’d been told to give her whatever credit she needed.’

I pondered the information. I had to assume Salford was pulling the strings and approved whatever happened in the place. Why would he extend credit to Murdoch? What was in it for him?

‘Did she have any friends at the casino? I asked.

‘Friends?’

‘People she met when she played, that kind of thing.’

He shook his head. ‘I don’t think she had any particular friends. She wasn’t short of male company, if you follow my drift.’

‘Did she ever arrive or leave with men other than her husband?’

‘Sometimes. Left with them more than she arrived with them.’

‘Any idea where she’d be heading for?’

‘Afraid not. I suppose there was one man she was friendlier with than the others. Shit. I can’t remember his name.’

‘Another pint?’ I said, hoping to jog his memory.

He nodded and sat there thinking whilst I went to the bar.

‘I’m sorry. I don’t know the guy’s name’ he said, when I returned. ‘We call him Nose.’ He shrugged, as if apologising for the childishness.

‘He’s got a big nose?’

‘No. Just a silly joke between us. He was always popping into the toilets and coming out wiping his nose and sniffing.’

I understood. Cocaine. ‘What about Jennifer Murdoch?’

‘Did she know, do you mean?’

I nodded.

‘Of course she did.  She was no better than him.’

That was interesting. Jennifer Murdoch seemed to have the run of the place, with unlimited credit and licence to consume serious drugs on the premises.

‘I need this man’s name’ I said. ‘I’ll drop in tomorrow when you’ve had chance to have a think about it, ask your friend if you need to.’ I asked whether or not Christopher Murdoch’s alibi stood up.

He shrugged. ‘No idea, to be honest. I can’t remember.’

I nodded and handed over a business card.

‘I leave Hull tomorrow and I’m not coming back’ he told me. ‘I’ve finished my course and I’m all packed up.’ He stood up and collected his coat. ‘I’ll give you a call, though.’

Don
liked to call them ‘case management reviews.’ I viewed them as an early morning opportunity to grab a bacon sandwich from the indoor market and have a catch-up chat. I assumed it was a hangover from Don’s days in CID, but I had to agree it was a good idea to have them, as it gave me a fighting chance of staying up to date. I’d beaten Don into the office by about an hour, as I wanted to use the time to check out the club Christopher Murdoch had told me he and his wife were members of. Their website proclaimed them to be a social group who meet every month in the West Hull area. The implication was clear, but the website contained very little concrete information. Reading between the lines, it wasn’t too difficult to grasp what they were all about. A contact page allowed you to send your details to them and promised a reply as soon as possible. Discretion was the point, I assumed, and it was clear the club was pretty much invite-only. I bookmarked the webpage so I could come back to it later and closed the Internet connection. I assumed the club wouldn’t be keen on accepting a single male into their gang. I’d have to persuade someone to come along with me, and that meant Sarah.

Don pushed his plate aside and finished chewing his sandwich. ‘You’re telling me Christopher Murdoch spent the night in your flat?’

I nodded. Murdoch was fast asleep on the couch when I returned from the casino, so I left him to sleep it off. When I awoke this morning, he’d left. I’d walked into the city centre and mulled over not telling Don about it before deciding honesty was the best policy.

‘He wants to hire us?’ said Don.

‘That’s right.’

‘What did you tell him?’

‘I said we’d do what we could.’

‘Why would you say that?’

‘He’s paying us.’

Don shook his head. ‘I don’t like it. He’s the police’s major suspect. It’s going to open a can of worms for us, I can feel it.’

I nodded. ‘Or we might be saving an innocent man.’ I didn’t mention I felt some sort of affinity with Murdoch, with both of us losing our wives.

‘Speaking of suspects, have we got anything else?’

Don burped and apologised. I thought about it. So far, all I had were suspicions and leads to work on. I explained what Briggs’s auditor had told me.

‘Do you think it’s relevant to Jennifer Murdoch’s death?’

It was a reasonable question. ‘Difficult to say at the moment. It seems like she stole a fair amount of cash and cost Sonia Bray her job.’ I tried to think it through. ‘Is it enough to kill over, though?’

‘What about Briggs?’

‘What about him?’

‘Do you buy the fact he didn’t know about the theft? I find it hard to believe.’

I knew Briggs was an unpleasant individual, but would a successful businessman murder his accountant? It didn’t seem like he needed the money that badly. I couldn’t see it. Besides, the police said his alibi checked out.

Don stood up and made us another coffee. I checked my mobile for new messages while I waited.

‘So what did Christopher Murdoch have to tell you last night’ Don said, placing my mug on the desk.

‘Frank Salford’s name reared its head again.’

‘Salford?’

I nodded. ‘The Murdochs were regulars at his casino.’

Don sat back down. ‘Means nothing.’

‘Not on its own, maybe, but I paid the place a visit last night and got talking to one of the barmen. He told me Jennifer Murdoch had a gambling problem, but more interestingly, Salford didn’t seem to be too bothered.’

‘Maybe he thought she was good for it?’

‘But it might go some way to explaining her theft from Briggs.’

‘Murdoch also told me they had an open marriage.’ I explained to Don about the club they were members of. ‘She was also friendly with a man the barman called Nose. He couldn’t remember the man’s actual name; it’s just a nickname he gave him because of his fondness of the Class A’s.’

I watched Don write the name down. ‘Doesn’t sound like the behaviour of someone who’s depressed. I’ll see if I can find anything out.’

I leant forward. ‘It’s odd, though, isn’t it? Why would Salford give Jennifer Murdoch the run of his casino?’

‘It could be nothing. Don’t get carried away, just yet. We know her husband isn’t short of money and she was a qualified accountant. It might be coincidence that it’s Salford’s casino.’

I knew Don was right. It might well be a coincidence. But I was growing to believe there were no coincidences where Salford was concerned.

‘Did he offer an alibi for the night his wife was killed?’ he asked me.

‘Not really. He was working near Leeds during the day; stopped for some food with a colleague and then pulled up in a lay-by to do a few hours work on his laptop.’

‘Even though he was only, what, an hour’s drive from home or his office?

I nodded. It sounded weak. ‘And then he went to the casino for an hour to relax.’

‘I suppose we could verify that part of his alibi at least.’

‘He also said he had a life policy on his wife.’

Don mulled it over. ‘I suppose it means little. Most people have their partners covered. But I doubt that’s the way the police would see it.’

I knew the open marriage and money problems gave him motive. I looked up to see Sarah enter the office.

‘Morning, love’ said Don.

She glanced at the paperwork and plastic sandwich boxes.

‘Case management review?’

‘Joe was telling me about his new friend, Christopher Murdoch, sleeping over at his flat.’

Sarah looked at me, clearly surprised. ‘I’ll tell you later.’

She pulled up a chair and joined us.

I tidied away the Jennifer Murdoch files and watched Sarah replace them with the Donna Platt files.

‘What do we know?’ asked Don.

I explained we’d spoken to Donna’s mother and uncle. ‘Tricky one. We definitely learnt more about her background, but ultimately we’re not an awful lot wiser.’