Love You Dead (49 page)

‘No comment,’ her solicitor said.

‘It’s OK,’ she said to him, then turned to Batchelor. ‘He was worried, he’d had some heart issues. He didn’t get on that well with his two children, he said
they were spongers and hardly ever bothered to contact him or come and see him. It was his idea – he wanted to stop them getting every cent when he died.’

‘Very kind of him,’ Batchelor said.

‘What are you implying?’ Clifford Orson said.

‘I’m making an observation. Let’s move on. Jodie, you say you were engaged to be married to Walt Klein?’

‘Correct, yes.’

‘Did Walt Klein ever talk to you about his financial affairs?’

‘No, never.’

‘Did you love him?’

‘I was engaged to him, of course I loved him very much.’

‘So was there a reason why you didn’t attend his funeral?’

‘No comment,’ her solicitor said firmly.

Ignoring him, Jodie replied, ‘Actually, there was. His son and daughter met me at the airport when I arrived back in New York and made it very clear I would not be welcome. I felt it would
be extremely disrespectful to attend in those circumstances.’

The two officers then asked her a number of questions about the meeting at the law firm in New York and the circumstances of her stay at the hotels.

‘OK, thank you, Jodie. Let’s move on to your second husband, Rowley Carmichael. You told us yesterday that you first made contact with him through an internet dating site and had
spent several months exchanging messages. When did you actually meet him?’

She reddened, then thought hard, and knew it was not going to look good. ‘Last month,’ she said.

‘Can you remember the date?’

‘February 24th.’

Batchelor studied his notes again. ‘Tuesday, February 24th?’

‘Yes.’

‘Your fiancé, Walt Klein, was buried on Friday 27th February. So you were dating Rowley Carmichael three days before your fiancé’s funeral?’

Jodie turned to her lawyer.

‘My client would like to take a short break,’ Clifford Orson said.

‘The time is 11.35 a.m., Sunday 15th March, interview resumed with Jodie Carmichael in the presence of her solicitor, Clifford Orson,’ DS Guy Batchelor said.

He repeated the question he had asked before and reminded her she was still under caution.

‘I was feeling desperately low,’ Jodie replied. ‘I’d just lost my fiancé and his family made it clear I wasn’t welcome at his funeral. I went out for a drink
to my favourite bar in Brighton to try to cheer myself up – and I arranged to meet Rowley there. His wife had died a while ago and he seemed like a lost soul. We just sort of connected as we
had done over the internet – it was as if we knew each other after our online chats.’

‘Is that so?’

‘We had dinner and then, later, he told me he was booked on a cruise and asked if I’d like to accompany him. I thought why not, what the hell. I had nothing else on, and I was
feeling pretty distraught about Walt – I thought it would be good to have a total break.’ ‘You didn’t know Rowley Carmichael well at the time you were dating – and
engaged to – Walt Klein?’

She hesitated. ‘No, not really, we had never met.’

‘So you were in regular email correspondence with him for several months prior to going on the cruise with him – during the time you were seeing and dating and subsequently engaged
to Walt Klein?’

She turned to her solicitor.

‘My client has no further comment to make,’ Clifford Orson said.

‘We have a few further questions,’ Batchelor responded. ‘Jodie, can you confirm that you were registered with at least three different internet dating agencies for single
ladies to meet wealthy men?’

Despite another warning glare from her lawyer, Jodie said, ‘Are you married, Detective?’

‘I’m asking the questions.’

‘I’m thirty-six. I don’t know if you are aware just how hard it is for a woman my age to meet a decent guy without baggage. My biological clock is ticking. All I’ve ever
wanted is to be married to a man I love and raise a family. I’m getting increasingly desperate and I’ve registered with loads of dating agencies. Is there something wrong with
that?’

Choosing men in their late seventies as potential life partners and fathers is unusual
, Batchelor wanted to say. But instead he merely shook his head. ‘Not at all. But it’s
certainly at best unfortunate that your late husband, Rowley Carmichael, a very rich man, died within days of your wedding. But very fortunate for you that the ship’s captain was a legally
registered celebrant. So many ships’ captains aren’t, so although they perform weddings at sea, they are not recognized in law. But in your case, your marriage was completely
legal.’

‘What are you implying about my client, Detective Sergeant?’ Orson demanded. ‘She didn’t book the cruise.’

‘I’m merely making an observation. And of course I would like to point out the coincidence of the terrible tragedies, that both your client’s first and second husbands died
from the venom of saw-scaled vipers.’

‘Precisely,’ Orson said. ‘Your words. She is completely innocent. You have no evidence at all. Everything you and your colleague have said is pure conjecture. Unless you have
any real evidence, I want my client released immediately.’

Batchelor replied, ‘At this moment in time that’s not going to happen. The investigation continues as we speak and we believe your client is responsible for the deaths of at least
three men and was possibly already planning to kill her latest victim, who narrowly missed being blown up by a car bomb yesterday morning. Your client’s house continues to be searched and we
are looking in detail into the exact circumstances of the deaths of Christopher Bentley, Walt Klein and Rowley Carmichael. The case may be circumstantial at present but we have many more questions
for your client.’

Orson responded, ‘Circumstantial and no more, she is entitled to be released.’

The door opened and Roy Grace, holding a laptop, entered the room. He introduced himself to the solicitor and to Jodie Carmichael, as well as formally for the benefit of the tape, then placed
the computer on the table and said, ‘I am about to show your client some material held on a laptop that has been seized from another suspect.’

He opened the computer’s lid. ‘Mr Orson, your client is probably not aware that her house was very elaborately bugged with cameras concealed in every room. We believe the person who
fitted them had come to collect items he had been sent to recover, that he suspected your client had stolen from a person in New York.’

‘Do you have any evidence to support this accusation, Detective Superintendent Grace?’

‘Actually, I do. What I’m about to show you is from a clone of a hard disk taken from a computer we found in a car close to your client’s residence in Roedean Crescent,
yesterday morning.’

He tapped some keys on the laptop, then turned it so all present in the room could see the screen clearly.

The images were from a camera, positioned high up on the wall of a room containing glass tanks filled with snakes, scorpions, frogs and spiders.

Jodie Carmichael was standing at one end of the room, lifting the lid from a tank containing a large snake. There was a loud boom, causing the camera to shake for some moments. Then a small man
ran into the room. As he did so, Jodie lifted the snake from the tank and hurled it at him. The creature hit him full in the chest, sending him tumbling backwards onto the floor.

They all watched in silence.

‘Yurrrrggggghhhh!’ the man yelled, trying to get up, as the snake instantly began winding itself round him, as well as biting him, furiously, on the hand.

‘Yowwwww!’ he yelled, rolling over and over, as the massive snake wrapped itself round him, pinning his arms to his midriff, then continuing to wind round his shoulders. They saw him
scream and shout out in pain and rage. ‘Get him off, you bitch!’

Jodie grabbed a glass vivarium containing what looked like four tarantulas, raised it in the air and held it over him.

‘Who the hell are you?’ she shouted. ‘Are you police?’

He looked up at the spiders, clearly terrified. ‘Who the fuck are you?’ he shouted back. ‘Jodie? Judith?’

‘Both of them,’ she replied, clearly. ‘And more.’

‘Get this thing off me!’

‘Oh yes? And then what?’ She raised the vivarium higher as if preparing to bring it smashing down onto him.

‘No. Noooooo! Please, I hate those critters, please. Look, lady, I’ll go away, I promshhhh.’ The snake was winding more tightly round his throat.

‘Like I believe you. You know something? I’ve killed three people – two husbands and a fiancé – actually, four, if you count my stupid sister. You think I care a
toss about some shitty intruder?’

Grace stopped the recording and looked down at Jodie, who was again toying with the chain of her locket, and then at her solicitor. ‘Is that real enough evidence for
you?’

‘With respect, Detective Superintendent, this is my client, in fear for her life, shouting out a threat in self-defence.’

‘Self-defence? Strangling her intruder with a massive snake? I don’t think so. And that explosion you heard, for your information – that was a bomb placed in her Mercedes car,
possibly with the intention of killing a police officer, and we are looking to establish if your client was involved.’

‘Can you give us one shred of evidence that it was placed there by my client?’ the solicitor asked. ‘It’s preposterous.’

Grace closed the lid and picked the computer up. ‘We’ll let you have a copy of this recording before you leave, Mr Orson.’ Then he smiled. ‘Oh, and by the way, the police
team searching your client’s house discovered the sum of one hundred and ninety-nine thousand, nine hundred dollars, in new bills, concealed in a mattress in one of the rooms. This may be
entirely coincidental, but I’ve been informed by the New York Police Department that your client is a person of interest in the theft of two hundred thousand dollars from a hotel room in
Manhattan on the night of Wednesday 18th February of this year. However, what your client doesn’t know is that it is counterfeit money. As I say, this might be entirely coincidental or
perhaps even circumstantial. I apologize for interrupting this interview. Please continue.’

Jodie, still toying with her necklace, glared at him.

About to walk out of the room, Grace hesitated suddenly, stared hard at her and took a step towards her with a frown. ‘Could I have a look at your necklace and locket, please?’

‘Why?’

‘I’d like to see it.’

She removed it and handed it to Grace. He studied the locket for a second and then shook it. Something inside rattled. Looking back at Jodie, he noticed her face had paled a fraction. He opened
the locket carefully and peered inside.

At what appeared to be a solitary snake fang.

He paused for a moment, thinking hard, then said, ‘I’m taking this item into police possession as a potential exhibit in my investigation.’

‘Would you please be careful with it?’ she replied. ‘It’s sentimental. My first husband gave it to me. It came from a Gaboon viper that bit his best friend. Christopher
killed the snake and managed to save his friend’s life. He gave me this fang as a good luck charm soon after we met.’

‘I apologize again for interrupting this interview. Please continue.’ Grace left, closing the door behind him.

Grace was in a pensive mood. ‘The time is 8.30 a.m., Monday 16th March. This is the eleventh briefing of Operation Spider.’ He scanned his assembled team. Everyone
was present except for Norman Potting, who had left him a message that he was on his way.

‘I’ll give you the good news first,’ Grace continued. ‘Most of you here were involved in Operation Violin, the investigation last year into two revenge murders and the
abduction of a young boy. Our prime suspect, an American professional killer known only by the name Tooth, vanished following a fight with Glenn on a dock at Shoreham Port. He was missing, presumed
drowned, after jumping into the water, although a subsequent extensive underwater search never found a body. Then a short while ago we had a tip-off from Pat Lanigan from the NYPD that Tooth was
very much alive and active again, and had returned to Brighton in pursuit of a memory stick and a sum of money that had been stolen from a hotel room in New York, allegedly by none other than our
Jodie.’

He sipped some water, then some coffee from the mug in front of him. ‘According to intelligence Lanigan had received, Jodie had links to a Romanian bagman for a Russian crime gang, who was
found murdered in New York at the same hotel she had been staying in. She was seen in the bar with him by hotel staff one evening, a couple of days before he was found dead in his room. In what I
suspect is not a complete coincidence, during a search of Jodie’s house at 191 Roedean Crescent yesterday, the sum of one hundred and ninety-nine thousand, nine hundred dollars was found
inside a mattress. Interestingly, a single one-hundred-dollar bill, matching the plate serial numbers of those in the mattress, was found in a holdall in Tooth’s hire car, on Saturday, along
with a USB memory stick. We’ve learned that the money was actually counterfeit.’

He sipped some more coffee. ‘The contents of the memory stick are currently being examined by the High Tech Crime Unit. It appears to be some kind of ledger, containing names, addresses
and coded transactions, within the US and some mid-European countries. We’re sending a copy to the NYPD as it holds a number of names of persons of interest to them, we understand.’

‘Do we know how Tooth escaped after going in the water?’ Branson asked.

‘Not yet. And I’m not sure that we ever will.’

‘How come?’

‘Video footage taken from Jodie’s Roedean residence shows the unfortunate Tooth attempting to attack her with a stiletto knife. She defended herself by hurling a huge boa constrictor
at him, which proceeded to wrap itself round his torso and neck in apparent self-defence – and constrict his airways. This charmer suffered severe oxygen starvation, as well as several bites
and stings from various other creatures before the snake was removed. He’s currently in the Intensive Care Unit of the Royal Sussex County Hospital, on life support. His score on the Glasgow
Coma Scale – which measures responses – is not good. The only sound he has uttered since being admitted on Saturday morning is, apparently, the word “Yossarian”.’