Spiritwalker (17 page)

“Morley, it's me again. I think I have some names that we should look into.” Carter said as she rang him again for the umpteenth time that morning.

Morley sighed as he listened to her. “What have you got?” he enquired.

“I’ve twelve names of people who rang or text more than the norm. Seven of them are women. I think we should concentrate on the men first. Morley had to give it to her she was as tenacious as a blood-hound and as he had discovered very thorough. He wouldn't want to be the one under her microscope if he had anything to hide. His thoughts went briefly to Anna but he quickly dismissed them, she would have to fend for herself if Carter began asking awkward questions.

“I've an appointment with a Richard Kingston. He sent her quite a few texts and rang numerous times in the weeks before she vanished. He has an office in Canary Wharf, a whole bloody building by the sounds of it. Two O clock sharp. That okay for you? If you'd like to sit in of course.”

“Great. I'll meet you there” he said and switched his phone to silent. He had his own investigations to follow up and didn't want be answering the phone every five minutes. Surprisingly she didn't ring him again that morning. He went to Jane's London home and found the Housekeeper was there, Molly had instructed her to continue on as normal. She hadn't anything else of use to add to his enquiries. He left the house slightly disillusioned, wondering if they were ever going to get a break.

He had half an hour to spare before his meeting with Carter and decided to grab a sandwich and coffee. He decided on one of the trendy café’s that Canary Wharf had to offer. He ordered a ham salad sandwich, it was over-priced and under filled, he thought to himself as he sat at a tiny table by the window. He watched as hundreds of smartly dressed men and women flowed by some sipping from Styrofoam cups while trying to juggle mobile phones and briefcases. There was a steady stream of immaculately dressed customers coming and going from the café. He felt rather shabby compared to them, not a hair out of place on any of them. He looked down at his navy two -piece suit, it had seen better says. He had bought a tie today to hide the grease stain that he had acquired from a particularly sloppy sandwich he had eaten on the train. He wondered idly, if they were happy, always having to look pristine for work. His phone vibrated in his pocket, taking it out he saw that it was Carter.

“Where are you?” She asked “I'm in the lobby of Kingston's building.”

“On my way” Morley replied “Hastily gulping down the last remnants of his coffee.”

Two minutes later he joined Carter. She had been asked to take a seat and told that someone from Mr Kingston's office would be down shortly. Morley noted the plush décor, the highly polished marble floor. The marble slab walls and the Waterford crystal chandelier that hung from the domed ceiling, sending flashes of starlight twinkling around the foyer each time it was disturbed by the slight breeze anytime someone entered the building. He could actually see his own reflection in the marble floor. It was like something out of a futuristic Si-fi movie.

Ten minutes later they were still sitting in the lobby waiting for someone to come and fetch them. Carter was getting annoyed, she hated tardiness. Walking up to the receptionist again she flashed her warrant card and said.

“If you could please tell Mr Kingston again that we are here, I would be most grateful.”

The receptionist looked at her with disdain, taking note of her shabby beige trench coat and dishevelled hair. “Mr Kingston is a very busy man I'm sure he will be with you as soon as he can.”

“Holly, is it?” Carter said reading the badge pinned to the receptionist's blouse. “This is a murder investigation. If you could tell Mr Kingston once more that we are here. Please tell him that if he would prefer to come down to the station, I can arrange for a car to pick him up.” The mention of the word murder had the desired effect. Holly dialled a number and whispered urgently into the mouthpiece.

“He's on his way down.” She said a little less condescendingly.

“Thank you” Carter replied. She had barely had time to sit down again before the lift doors opened and a tall elegantly dressed man stepped out. He looked in the direction of Holly, who pointed at Morley and Carter and mouthed something they couldn't hear. He frowned slightly when he recognised Morley but quickly pulled himself together. I'm Richard Kingston. I must apologise for the slight delay, my secretary is out on an errand and hasn't returned. I wasn't aware you were here. Please let's go up to my office, it’s more private.”

Morley and Carter rose and shook hands briefly with him. Carter took an instant dislike to him. For all his pleasant manners she could see he was holding back his irritation at being disturbed at work and she thought he looked slightly nervous. Smarmy git was the thought that entered her head. His handshake was slightly clammy and as soon as he had released her hand and turned away, she wiped her palm on her pant leg. Morley seeing this, smiled broadly at her. She felt like sticking her tongue at him but decided that it would be too childish. They followed him into the lift and up to the top floor. His office was at the end of a long corridor. He led them into an impressive corner office, with enormous windows and a magnificent view over London and the Thames. This is ten times the size of my living-room Carter thought as he indicated for them to take a seat. His desk was gigantic, it dwarfed the computer monitor that stood in the centre. The desk was made of highly polished teak, on the surface was a large blotter, a holder for pens, an empty in-tray and a pearl handled letter-opener. It didn't look like a whole lot of business was done from there. Looking around Carter took in the whole room. One wall was completely covered in books, while the other had photograph after photograph of Kingston posing with various different people. Most of whom she recognised, not because she knew any of them personally but because they were the crème de la crème of films, music, politics and high society.

At the other end of the room, there was an immaculate white three-seater sofa and a glass topped coffee table on which was stacked a pile of magazines.

Morley meanwhile was also taking in his surroundings. He was doing his best to remain silent, allowing Carter to take the lead role in the interview as she was the senior officer and he was on her territory.

“How can I help you?” Kingston asked seating himself behind his desk. He opened a drawer and took out something neither of them could see and just held it squeezing it from time to time. Carter thought it must be a stress reliever.

“I am investigating the death of Sylvia Cavendish, and my Colleague here is investigating the disappearance of Jane Turner. Both investigations seem to be connected and I believe you know both of them or in the case of Ms Cavendish knew her.” Carter said.

“Yes of course. Sylvia was a dear friend. I was very sorry to hear of her sudden death. How can I be of help?” He asked looking earnestly at them both in turn.

“We believe the death of Ms Cavendish and the disappearance of Ms Turner are related and wondered if you might know of anyone who might want to harm either of them.” Morley jumped in.

“I don't understand. I thought Sylvia died from a heart attack?” Kingston had a puzzled look on his face.

“Unfortunately it seems that Ms Cavendish was murdered. Her neck was broken. We believe that she was about to divulge significant information to a private detective by the name of Anna Cotter, relating to the disappearance of Ms Turner. Miss Cotter had an appointment to see her, but when she got there Ms Cavendish was dead” Carter sat forward in her chair slightly and examined his face closely. She thought she saw a slight change in his cool façade at the mention of Anna Cotter. A subtle tightening of his jaw.

“Goodness, that's news to me. Sylvia murdered. It must be wrong. Who could possibly want to harm Sylvia? Everybody loved her. I'm afraid I can't think of anything that might help. I can't imagine anyone hurting her. Kingston gushed on about the many qualities the murdered woman had.

“You seem to have sent a lot of text messages and made a lot of phone calls to Ms Turner in the weeks before her disappearance.” Morley interrupted “Can you tell us why there were so many and what you discussed?” He was doing his best to remain calm but he getting tired of Kingston's prattling.

“I'm sorry I don't recall off hand. I contact a great many people every day. Is Jane still missing, I had heard talk but that was ages ago. We all thought she went abroad or up to Scotland or somewhere. I remember discussing it with some friends at the time. Surely someone has heard from her. Have you asked her family?”

Never thought of that Morley said to himself.

“Are you sure you don't remember why you made all those texts and calls?” Carter asked. She too was irritated by him and could see Morley was beginning to lose patience.

“Do you have dates, I could look up my calendar, If you like?” He smiled genially at them.

“Last July. You sent over a hundred texts to her.” Morley said.

“Ah yes, July.” He said going through his leather bound diary, turning the pages with one hand. The other hand was still squeezing something. “Jane was organising a charity ball. She approached me to see if she could use my country house. It's quite large and close enough to London not to put people off attending.”

“There seems to be rather a lot of interaction between you just for one event.” Carter pressed him.

I might as well tell you, it’s nothing really, we had a bit of a fling for a couple of weeks. Nothing came of it. Jane was still getting over her marriage break up. She didn't feel she was ready for another relationship so soon.” Kingston appeared to be slightly embarrassed by this confession.

“That's the first I heard it. How is it her family never mentioned you?” Morley's radar was suddenly on full alert.

“We agreed to keep it private, just between us. I suppose when nothing came of it, she didn't feel the need to mention it to anyone. And since I'm a gentleman, I certainly wasn't going to tell anyone.” He smiled at Carter, making her shudder slightly and her skin prickled. It was all she could do to hide her discomfort.

“Mr Kingston, do you have any idea where Ms Turner is?” Morley decided to stop beating around the bush and ask direct questions.

“No Inspector I don't.” Kingston said looking him straight in the eye.

“Where were you on Sunday and Monday?” Carter asked taking her lead from Morley to be more direct.

“Do I need an alibi?” he asked raising an enquiring eyebrow in her direction.

“No, but it would help us to eliminate you as a suspect if you had.”

“Am I a suspect? If you must know, I was at my estate in the country, and I'm sure my housekeeper and her husband can verify it if needs be. ” The phone on the desk rang and Kingston's secretary announced that his two thirty appointment was waiting in the boardroom. They asked him a few more questions but seeing that they weren't going to get anything useful from him they got up and thanked him for his time.

“I'm sorry I couldn't be of more help.” Kingston arose and walked to the door holding it open for them both. “If you have any more questions please don't hesitate to call.”

“What happened your hand” Morley enquired. He noticed blood dripping from the clenched fist of Kingston's left hand.

“What, oh it's nothing, cut it earlier on the letter opener. I hadn't realised it was bleeding again.” He looked at his hand abstractly, as though it belonged to someone else.

They waited until they were outside before they discussed the interview.

“That was weird, how can you not realise your hand is bleeding... What do you think of our Mr Kingston.?” Morley asked

“Bloody creep, he made my skin crawl.”

“I don't think he was telling us the whole truth about Jane. I thought he was very evasive about their brief fling or whatever it was.”

“So do I. But unfortunately we can't arrest him for holding out on us. Or even lying to us. I'll have someone check out his alibi. I'd like to know more about that particular gentleman.” Carter said grimly.

Chapter twenty four

Kingston sighed as he shut the door behind the two detectives. His body sagged against it. He opened his hand and was amazed to see a pin-wheel head minus the handle. He thanked his lucky stars it was made of plastic. If it had one of the metal ones his hand would by now resemble a strainer. He didn't even remember putting it in his desk drawer, let alone taking it out and clutching it so tightly that it drew blood. It was one of his collection of S& M toys, which he kept at home, under lock and key away from prying eyes. He sat down again and threw the toy into the waste-paper basket in disgust. He wrapped a bandage from the small first aid kit in his desk around his injured hand. I'm fucking losing it. He thought as he opened another drawer and took out a small bag with white powder in it and after arranging half of it into a line, he used a crisp five pound note to snort it. He sat back in his chair and waited for the powder to take effect. His secretary knocked and poked her head around the door.

“Your two thirty is waiting in the boardroom.” She said timidly.

“Tell him I'm not available.” He roared at her and flung the pen holder. It slammed into the door scattering its contents. His secretary quickly retreated and shut the door before it could do any harm to her. She was used to his foul, violent moods but even she thought they were getting much worse lately. She was thinking of handing in her notice, the only thing stopping her was the money. Mr Kingston paid generously.

He began to relax and his head cleared. He knew it was time to do something. He had to put the police off their investigation and get them to stop looking for Jane. He needed a fall guy for Sylvia’s' murder and he knew just who to use as a stool pigeon. He left the office in a decidedly better mood and headed back to his apartment in the city. He needed to think and he knew he wouldn't get any peace at the office. At his apartment he poured himself two fingers of whiskey and lay on his bed and thought. He lay there on the bed with the curtains drawn. For hours he lay in the dark and planned every minute detail of his next course of action.