Reckless Endangerment (7 page)

‘Oh, that’s nice,’ said Miller’s wife, seemingly unimpressed by our arrival or the reason for our being there. ‘I’ll leave you to do the honours, Sid.’ She put the tray on a coffee table. ‘Unless you want to ask me something about it,’ she said, smiling at me.

‘Do you know anything about what happened, Mrs Miller?’ I asked.

‘No, dear, I must’ve slept right through it all. I’m such a heavy sleeper that Sid always has a job waking me up in the morning. But it was the police sirens and all the noise outside that eventually brought me to life. I never knew nothing about it till Sid got back and told me what’d happened. Terrible, isn’t it?’ Miller’s wife glanced at me and turned towards the door.

‘Thanks, doll,’ said Miller to his wife’s departing back. ‘Now then, gents, what’s next?’ he asked, as he poured the tea and handed it round.

‘How exactly was Mrs Gregory tied up?’ asked Dave.

‘Now, let me see.’ Miller took out a packet of cigarettes and offered it to Dave and me.

‘No thanks, Mr Miller.’ I’d been trying to give up for ages and managed to resist this latest temptation. Even my old schoolmaster’s story of his brother’s untimely death as a result of smoking-induced lung cancer had failed to have the required effect. But at least I wasn’t smoking as many as I used to. I suppose that’s progress of a sort.

‘Thank you,’ said Dave, accepting a cigarette. He’d given up giving up. ‘You were about to tell us how Mrs Gregory was tied up.’

‘Oh yes. She was lying on her side and her hands were tied behind her, round her wrists, and there was another piece of rope tying her ankles together.’

‘How tightly was the rope tied, Mr Miller?’ I asked, bearing in mind what Kate Ebdon had said about the lack of rope burns.

‘Now that you mention it, not very tight,’ said Miller thoughtfully. ‘Not that I realized it at the time. The rope round her ankles was reasonably tight, but the rope round her wrists was not really tied at all. Sort of loose, if you know what I mean.’

‘What exactly do you mean?’ asked Dave.

‘It was more like two loops that had been tied beforehand and slipped over her hands and on to her wrists. I was able to slide them off quite easily; I didn’t have to undo the knots.’

‘Are you quite sure about that, Mr Miller?’ I asked. When we had examined the ropes, they had all been untied. If what Miller said was true, Mrs Gregory must’ve untied the wrist ropes between Miller finding her and our arrival on the scene. I made a mental note to ask Tom Watson about it.

‘Positive,’ said Miller.

‘And what about the gag?’ I asked. ‘She told us that she’d managed to dislodge it, and that’s when she’d started screaming.’

‘I s’pose that’s right. There was a bit of cloth on the floor near her head, so that’s what must’ve happened. It looked like a piece of a tea towel.’

‘What did she say after you’d freed her?’ asked Dave.

‘She wasn’t making much sense, but she muttered something about a man breaking in and tying her up. She told me the man had gone, but I had a quick look round to make sure she was right.’

‘And I presume he had?’

‘Long since, I should think,’ said Miller, ‘but he hadn’t half made a mess of the place.’

‘And you’re quite sure that she said the man had already left?’ said Dave.

‘Absolutely.’

‘Changing the subject,’ I said, ‘what sort of couple were the Gregorys?’

‘Normal, I s’pose,’ said Miller. ‘Kept themselves to themselves, if you know what I mean. Sharon’s away a lot on account of her being an air hostess, and Cliff’s an accountant, I think. He seems to do most of his work on a computer at home. And he certainly knows his stuff when it comes to computers. He fixed mine once when it went belly-up on me. Plumbers and computers don’t always mix well. You can’t fix a computer with a blowlamp. Give me water and pipes every time.’

‘Did they get on, Cliff and Sharon?’ It struck me that an air hostess and an accountant seemed a strange match. But it takes all sorts.

‘As far as I know. Mind you, they were an odd couple. She’s what I’d call a party girl. Loved getting around, so I’ve heard, but old Cliff was a bit of a stick-in-the-mud. He’d rather stay at home watching TV and making his model aeroplanes.’

‘Did they have disagreements about their social life? Or lack of it.’

‘I never heard them arguing, if that’s what you mean. Mind you, Sharon spends a lot of time away on account of her job.’

‘Sharon Gregory said that you and your wife were very good friends with her and her husband.’

‘Really? I don’t know where she got that idea from. We hardly ever spoke to them. We’re just neighbourly, if you know what I mean. Pass the time of day whenever we see them. The usual sort of thing.’

‘She also told us that her husband was a heavy drinker. Did you know anything about that?’ I knew, from what Henry Mortlock had said, that this was unlikely, but I was interested to hear if Sharon had ever complained that her husband drank to excess.

‘I find that hard to believe somehow. I asked Cliff if he fancied going for a drink down the local pub once, when Sharon was away, but he turned me down. He said he didn’t drink much and didn’t like pubs anyway. As a matter of fact, we invited him and Sharon in for a drink last Christmas Eve and Cliff only had the one glass of champagne. No, he’s not a drinker in my book. Leastways, not unless he’s one of those secret alcoholics. They’re a bit devious from what I’ve heard. I knew a bloke once—’

‘Can we get back to the point, Mr Miller?’ Dave held up his hand. ‘Sharon’s a good-looking girl, isn’t she?’ he asked, intent on finding out whether she was not averse to the occasional affair.

‘She certainly is,’ said Miller warmly. ‘And she’s a bit of a flirt is Sharon.’

‘What makes you think that, Mr Miller?’ I asked.

‘Well, when she’s not in uniform, she always dresses in a way that’s sure to get her noticed. And just to be on the safe side, I wouldn’t take a chance on being alone with her if I could possibly avoid it. As a matter of fact, she rang me one morning about a month ago and said she couldn’t turn off the shower and could I go round. She said Cliff was out and she didn’t know what to do.’

‘And did you go round?’

‘No, I wasn’t prepared to risk it. If she’d just got out of the shower there’s no telling what I might’ve walked into, so to speak. I sent the missus instead; she’s nearly as good at dealing with that sort of thing as I am. But on the whole, I’d say the Gregorys were an ideal couple. Mind you, it probably helps with them not being thrown together all day and every day.’

‘Mrs Gregory told us that she was naked when you found her.’

‘Yes, she was.’ Miller gave a droll chuckle.

‘But she said she couldn’t remember whether she was still naked when she accompanied you around the house to see if the intruder was still there.’

‘Oh yes, she definitely was. But I got the impression that she didn’t care too much about that sort of thing. Of course it could’ve been the shock of what had just happened to her. She certainly didn’t seem to know what she was doing. But there again, like I said, she
was
a bit of a flirt.’

‘Didn’t you suggest that she put some clothes on?’ asked Dave.

Miller smiled wryly. ‘No, of course not.’

‘When you and she entered the main bedroom, Sharon said she fainted when she saw her husband’s dead body.’

‘I don’t remember that,’ said Miller. ‘But I was a bit taken aback by seeing Cliff lying dead there, so my concentration was sort of on him. Like I said, I called 999 and when your blokes turned up they sent for an ambulance. Just following regulations, I suppose. But the paramedics said he was dead and they left it to the law.’

I decided that that was all we were going to get from Miller for the time being. Dave got him to sign his statement and we left.

‘D’you want to have another word with Sharon Gregory, guv?’ asked Dave. ‘As we’re right next door.’

‘No, we’ll leave it until tomorrow, Dave. That should give her time to get over her trauma. And it’ll be interesting to hear if she still tells the same story. Or if she’s prepared to tell us who the intruder really was, because I’m sure she knew him, despite what she said.’

I was not looking forward to Monday morning for a very good reason. And at one minute past ten precisely, my fears were confirmed when Colin Wilberforce appeared in my office.

‘What is it, Colin?’

‘The commander would like to see you, sir.’

‘Thank you, Colin.’ With a sigh, I walked the few yards down the corridor to the office of the chief.

‘Ah, Mr Brock.’ The commander looked up as though surprised to see me. I don’t know why the hell he couldn’t have just walked into my office like any other senior detective. Actually I did know: the commander wasn’t a real detective. He’d been arbitrarily selected for what we in the trade call a ‘sideways promotion’, a term that Dave dismissed as an oxymoron. After a lifetime antagonizing football crowds and introducing new traffic schemes that merely resulted in further delaying drivers who were just trying to get to work, the commander had been sent to the CID. Obviously some dim-witted visionary in what is now called ‘human resources’ thought that we would benefit from his expertise. The outcome was that he thought he really was a detective. The truth, however, was that he’d been put out to grass until the age limit sent him home. For good. But none of that stopped him from viewing all our activities with deep-rooted mistrust. And constantly questioning what we were doing.

‘You wanted me, sir?’

‘Bring me up to date on this suspicious death you’re dealing with, Mr Brock.’ It was one of the commander’s little foibles that he would never call a murder a murder in case it turned out to be manslaughter or suicide. Or even an accidental death. He hated to be wrong.

‘It’s a murder, sir,’ I said firmly. ‘No doubt about it.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Quite definitely, sir.’

‘Tell me about it.’ The commander sighed and leaned back in his chair, peering at me over his half-moon spectacles. I doubted they contained corrective lenses; I think he wore them for effect.

I spent the next few minutes describing the case with which we were dealing, larding it with technical CID phrases that I knew he wouldn’t understand but wouldn’t query for fear of being found uninformed about the basics of crime investigation. I decided, however, not to voice my suspicions about Sharon Gregory’s account of what had taken place at West Drayton. That would set him off theorizing. Anyway, we needed more than we had before we could justify arresting her.

‘Yes, very well, Mr Brock. Keep me informed.’ The commander carefully selected a file from his overflowing in-tray, placed it in the centre of his desk and caressed it lovingly.

I returned to my office. Dave was waiting for me.

‘Give me an excuse to get out of here, Dave,’ I said. ‘Any excuse.’

‘Will Heathrow Airport do, guv? I tracked down the security officer for the airline Sharon Gregory works for. His name’s Ted Richie and he’s an ex-CID officer. He was a DCI when he packed the Job in.’

‘Thank God for that. When can he see us?’

‘As soon as we can get there,’ said Dave, ‘but Charlie Flynn’s got some information for you that you ought to know about before we go.’

DS Flynn came into my office carrying a sheaf of papers. ‘I’ve checked through Mrs Gregory’s credit card accounts, guv’nor. Turns out she was one careless lady.’

‘How so, Charlie?’

‘The window sash weight and the clothes line that Linda Mitchell found in the garage were purchased by Sharon Gregory from a DIY supermarket in Ruislip a week ago and paid for on her credit card.’ Flynn thumbed through his pile of paper. ‘She also paid an online pharmacy company in Mexico six weeks ago, but there’s no indication what she bought.’

‘Well, well,’ I said. ‘Why would an air hostess buy a window sash weight and a clothes line? The house is double glazed and there’s a washer-drier in the utility room.’ But the answer was obvious: she, or her accomplice, had murdered Clifford Gregory. And the pharmacy company in Mexico could have been the source of the Rohypnol that Dr Mortlock had found in Clifford Gregory’s hair. But we had yet to discover a motive.

‘That’s not all, guv. The insurance policy that Sharon Gregory said her husband had taken out for twenty thousand pounds no longer exists. It was cashed in when the Gregorys bought their house five years ago. However …’ Flynn paused, presumably for dramatic effect. ‘Sharon took out a policy on her husband for one hundred thousand pounds.’

‘When?’ I asked.

‘Would you believe one month ago, guv?’ Flynn looked up and grinned.

‘Thanks, Charlie. That’s very helpful.’

‘Miss Ebdon said it looked like a put-up job, guv,’ said Dave, when Flynn had departed. ‘So, what’s next?’

‘What’s next, Dave, is that we go straight to West Drayton and nick Mrs Gregory on suspicion of murdering her husband. Not that she’s going anywhere until Wednesday. At least that’s when she said she was next on duty.’

It was only fifteen miles from ESB, as we had come to call the Empress State Building, to West Drayton. Even so, it took us nearly an hour, despite what Dave called ‘positive motoring’, an expertise that added another meaning to the term ‘hard drive’. But when we arrived at the Gregorys’ house, we found that our journey had been in vain.

The blue and white tapes were still in place across the front of the house, and a constable from the local station stood guard at the door.

‘Are you looking for Mrs Gregory, sir?’ asked the PC.

‘Yes, I am.’

‘She left about ten minutes ago in her Mini Cooper, sir,’ said the PC.

‘Did she say where she was going? Shopping, perhaps?’

‘She said she was going on duty. She was in her airline uniform and was carrying a small suitcase.’

‘I don’t suppose you happened to take a note of the index mark of the Mini Cooper, did you?’ I asked hopefully.

The PC opened his pocketbook and displayed a page. ‘There you are, sir,’ he said triumphantly.

‘Well done,’ I said. ‘You should go far in the Job.’ I’d often had that said to me when I was a young PC, but it hadn’t seemed to have the desired effect. Quite a few of my contemporaries at the Metropolitan Police training school at Hendon were now chief superintendents and one was a commander, but they were in the Uniform Branch and I wondered, yet again, whether becoming a CID officer had been a wise choice. And another thing I’d learned is that a compliment of that sort only holds good until your next mistake.