Rope Enough (The Romney and Marsh Files Book 1) (26 page)

BOOK: Rope Enough (The Romney and Marsh Files Book 1)
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‘So what do we do? Let him go?’

‘Maybe. If it’s not cast-iron. I can’t risk it.’

‘Sorry, sir, but that’s crazy. We’ve got to try him on it.’

Romney was still engrossed in the front of the building opposite. A banner had been hanging there in the summer months. Like much of the temporary cosmetic face of Dover, it had soon succumbed to the autumnal gales and rain and the freezing winter had all but finished it off. There was still evidence of its existence, though. A lengthy thin cord dangled and bucked in the breeze. It caught Romney’s attention. ‘No,’ he said. ‘We’ve got to be cleverer than that. I’ve underestimated Park. Fool me once and all that. We’ve got to give him enough rope.’

‘Sir?’

‘I know. I’m not making much sense am I? Never mind. Let’s get inside and face the music.’ He stubbed the cigarette out in the bucket of sand provided for the purpose and re-entered the building. He told Marsh to go down and convey his apologies for the delay to Park and his solicitor. ‘Be nice. Be text-book polite. Tell them anything you like, but make it sound convincing and important. I’m going to talk to the super for a minute. I’ll see you down there.’

 

***

 

 

 

13

 

Twenty minutes later Romney entered the interview room to conduct what he knew was going to be a pointless interrogation. He looked tired and deflated and as though some of the fight had been knocked out of him.

‘I hope that Sergeant Marsh explained my delay,’ he said, looking down at a file he had opened in front of him. The duty solicitor nodded. Romney looked up and snared Park’s eyes with his own. He held them until the youth looked away.

The solicitor broke the silence. ‘My client would like it stated for the audio record that he has attended the police station of his own free will in response to it becoming known to him that the police wished to speak with him.’

‘Very public spirited, I’m sure,’ said Romney.

‘Also, for the record, my client would like it noted that this is the second time in two days that he has been asked to attend interviews voluntarily. There has also been substantial delay.’

‘Your point being?’ said Romney.

‘The point being that my client does have a life to lead. He has better things to be doing than trailing down to the police station every day.’

‘Well, if your client will be forthright and candid in assisting us with our enquiries, we can all get back on with our lives.’

‘I’m sure that you can count on it, Inspector,’ said the solicitor, without a hint of sarcasm.

That necessity over with, Romney began, ‘Carl, can you tell me where you went after you left the police station yesterday evening?’

‘You’ve no need to answer that,’ said the solicitor.

‘It’s OK,’ said Park. ‘I want to help. I want the police to see that I’ve got nothing to hide and then they might leave me in peace to grieve. I walked, Inspector.’

‘What are you grieving for?’

‘Not what, who? I’m grieving for the loss of Claire Stamp. As I told you before, we were lovers and we were close. I think that we might have had a future.’

Romney let the few long moments of silence that filled the room speak for his obvious disdain for this statement. ‘Where did you walk?’

‘Just around Dover. I wasn’t really paying that much attention.’

‘How long did you walk for?’

‘All night.’

Again there was a prolonged silence. ‘You walked around Dover all night?’

‘Yes. Well, I found some sanctuary in a bus shelter. I think that I must have fallen asleep for a while.’

‘In this weather?’

‘It was very cold.’

‘Where was that?’

‘On London road.’

‘Did anyone see you?’

‘I would imagine they did. I saw several people.’

‘Anyone you know?’

‘No.’

‘A pity and very convenient,’ said Romney. ‘Do you know that while you were walking around Dover, we had reason to visit your home last night with a search warrant?’

‘My mother mentioned it, when I called her to let her know where I was.’

‘Yes, why was your phone turned off last night?’

‘I don’t like to be interrupted when I’m deep in thought. Mobile phones are quite intrusive like that.’

‘So you turned your phone on this morning after spending the night on the streets thinking and grieving and when your mother told you that we were looking for you, you came straight here to help us with our enquiries?’

‘That’s what happened.’

‘How many phones have you got?’

Park smiled, as at a realised irony. ‘I did have two, up until last night that is. I think that I lost one of them in the bus shelter.’

‘Why have two phones, Carl?’

‘It’s just the fashion, Inspector. To be honest I hardly ever used it. It was just an accessory.’

‘Do you have a record of the number?’

Park hesitated, then tried to cover himself with an impression of a thoughtful frown. ‘It didn’t have a SIM card in it. Like I said it was just an accessory.’

‘But you also just said that you hardly ever used it. If you used it at all you must have had a SIM card in it.’

‘Sometimes I’d switch the SIM card from my normal phone into the one that I’ve lost. Just for a change. I get bored with the same thing all the time.’

‘Did your mother tell you that we took away your computer?’

Park’s face darkened. ‘No, she didn’t. Why did you do that?’

‘You know why, Carl.’

Park squirmed a little and Romney got what satisfaction he could from it. ‘You know what we found on your hard-drive, Carl?’ The youth didn’t answer. ‘We found some very disturbing, sick and perverted pornography.’

‘That’s objectionable, Inspector,’ said the solicitor. ‘That is just your subjective opinion.’

‘Why don’t you tell him, Carl, tell him what’s on your hard-drive – what we found?’

‘You don’t have to say anything,’ said the solicitor.

Park couldn’t.

Romney shrugged. ‘There is one particular video that we need to discuss with you, Carl, because of its close resemblance to the two serious sexual assaults that we are investigating. You know the one I’m referring to, don’t you?’ Romney ploughed on, not waiting for responses. ‘It’s the one of the woman being tortured and raped by four men. Do you have anything to say about that?’

Regaining some of his confidence, Park said, ‘It’s just Internet porn. Everyone who has the Internet looks at porn.’

‘I don’t,’ said Romney. ‘Do you?’ he asked the solicitor He just stared blankly back at the policeman. ‘When was the last time you saw Peter Roper?’

‘I told you, a couple of months ago.’

‘Where?’

‘I told you, the job agency.’

‘What sort of contact did you have with him after that?’

‘We had swapped email addresses and phone numbers. We exchanged a few messages.’

‘But you didn’t actually see him?’

‘I might have done, on the street, just around town. But I didn’t meet up with him by arrangement. He struck me as a bit odd actually. He kept sending me this stuff over the Internet, links to websites, in fact, I’m sure that he sent me that video that you were talking about. Yes, that’s right, I looked at it, but it didn’t interest me much. Not my kind of thing.’

‘What is your kind of thing, Carl?’

‘Don’t answer that,’ said the solicitor, finding his voice again.

‘It must have interested you enough to download it to your hard-drive.’

The solicitor said, ‘Inspector, do you have anything in particular that you wish to discuss with my client? I’m having a job seeing the point of all this?’

Romney stared at the priggish little man. He found himself making a mental note to make his life difficult the first opportunity he got. He turned back to Park. ‘Did you see Peter Roper last night?’

‘My client has just told you that he hasn’t seen him for a couple of weeks.’

‘Carl?’

‘No I didn’t.’

‘Were you on, or anywhere near Dover cliffs last night?’

‘No, I wasn’t.’

Romney let the quiet gradually fill the room.

‘Do you have any further questions, Inspector?’ said the solicitor.

‘No, I don’t.’

Park barely suppressed a smirk.

‘In that case, we will leave you to your investigation.’

‘You can do what you like,’ said Romney, not gracefully. ‘Carl Park, I’m detaining you on suspicion of being involved in the death of Peter Roper. You do not need to answer any questions at this time, if you so choose. Your detention period will start, now.’

‘What?’ said Park. ‘You can’t be serious?’

‘Indeed I am,’ said Romney. ‘I have good reason to believe that you are involved in Peter Roper’s death.’

’What reason?’

‘You’ll find out in due course. I don’t think that you are as clever as you think you are. Your detention period will be twelve hours in the first instance, after that we can get an extension without much difficulty for another twelve. I’m pretty sure though that we’ll find what we’re looking for in that time. My superintendent has offered to draft in all the help that we need.’ Park was simmering and silent. Romney said, ‘Take him back to the cells, Constable, please.’

As Park was being led away, Romney said, ‘You made another mistake, Carl.’ Park stopped and turned to face him. ‘You showed no surprise to the news that Peter Roper is dead.’ And then remembering something that DI Crow had said he added, ‘Sometimes it’s hard to see the wood for the trees, Carl.’ Park stared back impassively. His legal representation struck by Romney’s comment turned to look with barely concealed suspicion at his client. ‘We both know you killed him and we both know why. We found you and you were afraid that we’d find him. You teamed up with him to rape those two women. You were lucky with Claire Stamp’s death because that was your first mistake: you left evidence of your involvement behind. Roper was the only other person alive who knew the details of your dirty secret and you had to shut him up. Why, Carl? Were you afraid he wasn’t as strong as you?’ Park showed nothing. ‘If you can make two mistakes, Carl, you can make three. I’m positively encouraged that we will find what we’re looking for when we take your house apart.’ Romney nodded at the constable and Park was guided out of the room without another word.

‘So, what are we looking for, sir?’ said Marsh, when they were alone.

‘Come and have a coffee on me, and I’ll tell you all about it,’ said Romney, trying to exude a confidence that he suddenly didn’t particularly feel.

 

*

 

It was well into evening by the time they returned to the squad room. Because of the hour it was too dark for anything to be done to follow Romney’s greatest hope. He satisfied himself with organising a search warrant for Park’s flat. First thing in the morning they were going to take it apart. The only time concern was the constraint of the detention order. While it would run for twelve hours as standard Romney had already had assurances that a further and final twelve hours would not be a problem to obtain. He had to hope that that would be enough.

All that could be done was being done. Final parts of the information jigsaw fell into place. A communication from forensics confirmed what Romney was already certain about: Peter Roper was the rapist of Jane Goddard. The officer charged with tracking phone records of the primary numbers of Park and Roper was able to report that while they had exchanged calls some months before there had been no communication through those numbers since.

Superintendent Falkner made one of his infrequent visits to the CID squad room on his way home. After Romney had briefed him on the parts of the puzzle, Falkner said, ‘Looks like you are right about everything so far, Tom. You’ve played a good hand. Let’s hope that you’re right about your trump card or none of us is going to come out of this smelling very sweet.’

‘It’s Hobson’s choice, sir,’ said Romney. ‘We’ve got nothing solid on him. If we don’t push our luck, he’s going to walk.’

‘We still have the suicide text to fall back on,’ said Falkner.

‘With respect, sir, I’ve never been much of one for the convenient statistical aspect of crime solving as policing. I’d always rather get the guilty party. I’m old fashioned like that.’

‘Try having the kind of people on your back that I have, Tom. See how long you keep your old-fashioned values. I know, I know, it’s a terrible state of affairs, what’s it all coming to and all those time-worn phrases. Go home and get a good night’s sleep. I have a feeling that you have a long day ahead of you tomorrow.’

Romney sent his team home with similar predictions about the following day ringing in their ears and reminders about what time they should be showing their faces in the morning. They were going to need every minute of daylight.

 

*

 

BOOK: Rope Enough (The Romney and Marsh Files Book 1)
4.61Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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