Chapter 12
21st July
"Sit down, Gallagher." The Old Man didn't look up until he reached the final page. "It's an interesting report and well written. Is there something you're not telling me though?"
Gally managed to look thoughtful and replied, "I don't think so, Sir."
Pipe clamped between his teeth, the Old Man countered, "You don't think the fact you've compromised the surveillance with your inability not to flirt even when at the wheel is important then?"
He shifted slightly in his seat. "Well, Sir, it has a small measure of importance but I don't consider it to be on such a scale as to merit special mention. What I mean is, they already know or strongly suspect they're being monitored but they also know their game isn't up until we've traced them all. They're not after secrets, they're an assassination team and they still have a viable mission. We just have to pick them off, one by one." It seemed to work. "What's going to happen with the stamp man, Sir? Are Box going to have him hoiked in or are they going to let it run?"
"For the time being, Gallagher, they're going to keep an eye on him and his contact. They still have the Home Office warrant going for his post and home phone tapping. On the downside, the call box in the village has been refused by the Home Secretary, invasion of the public's privacy, so we'll have to use other means in respect of that. I take it you recovered our device?"
"We did, Sir. About his contact, the pensioner, anything come back as yet?"
The Old Man removed the pipe and waved it at Gally. "Yes, former member of the British Communist Party back in the thirties. Didn't stay long at all. We almost missed it. Of course, none of us can say whether he did leave the letter behind the cistern, it may have been there before, but you saw it and our Farralland chap confirms it had gone after the ‘stamp man’ left so he's of interest to our colleagues now. In the meantime, go and speak to Reg, he'll give you an update on what he and Clive have been up to."
Gally accepted a mug of steaming tea from Reg and asked, "What you're telling me, Clive, is that the owner of that registration number says she had it stolen a month ago and the motor she has parked up is a Morris Minor?"
Clive sat down and dunked a biscuit. "Exactly."
"Who did the enquiry, visited the house? County SB?"
Clive gave a little shake of his head. "No, they did the trace for us and then arranged for a local plod to give her a visit. That's when she said she'd reported it. Confirmed as well."
Gallagher sipped his tea, his feet resting on the chair opposite. "Did he give us a description of her?"
"You never asked for one and I wasn't aware of the significance of it."
Gally caught the subtle eye contact between Clive and Reg. "Up yours, Clive. It's common knowledge now, isn't it? Yes, I fucked up but, in my defence, I did get a good look at her." The others laughed.
"No one's perfect, Gally," Clive replied. "Actually, I did get one from him. She's about five feet six inches, slim with ginger hair just touching her shoulders, green eyes and he says she’s very attractive."
Gally rubbed his hand around his mouth and chin. "Well, the woman I saw was sat down and, maybe I didn't get that good a look at her. She didn't have ginger hair though. She was a brunette." He swivelled his head around to glance at Reg who was sifting through the filing cabinet in the corner. "Anything on Eddlestone yet, Reg?"
"I've put the file on your desk in the office, son. I thought you'd seen it?"
"No, I was a bit late this morning and had to go and see the Old Man straight off, luckily he never noticed. What's happening about the search for our next victim?"
Reg shook his head. "At the moment, it's not. We've a ton of stuff to go through. It's going to take a couple of days, at least, I should think."
For the rest of the morning, he read the Eddlestone file. Around midday, he found himself a phone number and dialled. "Hello, John Gallagher from Special Branch, can I speak to the Detective dealing with the death of Timothy Eddlestone, please?”
Three o'clock and he was wandering around Eddlestone's cottage with Detective Constable Leighton in hot pursuit.
"Right, what's your first name again, mate? Dennis? Right, Dennis, if my understanding of the situation is correct, the front door was bolted and locked from the inside, he was found hanging from the stairs by his tie and the back door was locked from the inside?"
"That's right. The first officers to arrive had to kick it in."
"Is that the same lock and key?"
"Yeah, the damage was all done to the frame which you'll see has been repaired. If you don't mind me asking, why the renewed interest in this job? Your lot were all over this at one point then they seemed to get bored and I ended up with it. Suicide they said. I can't say I disagree. There was no note but I’m told he'd been a bit depressed and no signs of forced entry."
"I'll give you that, Dennis. As you know, his security clearance caused the initial excitement, it usually does, but when the circus leaves town and the dust settles someone has to sweep it up. That's you and me, mate." He'd reached the back door and squatted down to examine the lock. "He was found by his best mate, Jeremy Copeland, wasn't he?"
"Yeah, well you've read the file. Eddlestone hadn't turned up at a social meeting the night before, pub or something, so he came round to check on him, found it all locked up but could see his legs and feet sticking out into the kitchen doorway so he runs around to the neighbour who tried a spare backdoor key he'd been given. He used to feed the cats when Eddlestone went on holiday but the key was still in the lock. That's when they phoned the Police."
"Why didn't they just kick the door in?"
"Well, the neighbour's an old fella and he did try with his shoulder but it wouldn't budge. That's when Copeland went to the phone box. What are you thinking?"
"I'm thinking it doesn't feel right. Look, this doorframe. It's been repaired around the lock site but the top and bottom bolts couldn't have been on because they're pristine. No repairs. That paint has been there for years and these are the original fittings so that means the bolts weren't on. Let me show you something." Using the key, he turned the door lock several times. "See how easy that is? And, if you look closely, you can see traces of oil. I'd bet that was applied quite recently." He delved in his pocket and produced a set of long, fine, needle-nosed pliers.
With the door open, key still in the lock on the inside, he knelt down and inserted the pliers into the outside key opening then looked up at his colleague. "There's the possibility I could end up looking a right tart if this doesn’t work but I was only shown how to do it the other day." It took him two attempts and a shift in position before he succeeded in causing the deadbolt to activate. Having perfected the technique, he closed the door and repeatedly locked and unlocked the mechanism. Dennis was impressed but looked concerned. "Blimey, do you think I should have spotted that?"
Gally shook his head. "No. Nobody else did so why should you fare any better."
"So, are you saying it was his mate murdered him and staged everything?"
"To be honest, that's exactly what I think he did. Proving it is another matter." He stood up. "I don't know what went on exactly but what's in my file, and I suspect not in yours, is that Copeland isn't just a Government scientist. He was the Finance Director of a project I can't discuss. That rings alarm bells in my head. Position and seemingly unlimited money coming in, the temptation must have been difficult to resist. Maybe our Timothy found out. Maybe he was blackmailing him or maybe he just threatened to tell someone. We'll probably never really know but I think Copeland was here the night Eddlestone died." He strolled over to the garden shed, no hasp, simple catch, and stepped in.
"I'll be kind to the pair of them. Perhaps old Jeremy came to plead with Tim not to say anything about his pilfering. They'd had a few drinks, probably too many. We know from the post-mortem report that Eddlestone had consumed a considerable amount. Things get out of hand. Jerry loses it and then does a runner but, when he gets home, he realises he's left traces so he comes back later on, stages it and cleans the glasses, puts them back in the cupboard, wipes down whatever he can to remove the telltale fingerprints then thinks about the back door. He might have been going to leave by the front but knows the lock here is quite free. He gets an idea and comes in the shed, finds some three in one oil and the needle-nose pliers. He's got time. The neighbour, we know from his statement, goes to bed early, takes some sleeping 'aid' as he put it and rises late. When done, Copeland puts the stuff back."
He began turning various tools on the shed's peg board. "Look at that, Dennis? Needle-nose pliers and they're the only ones different from the rest."
The DC studied the board. "How do you mean? They all seem to be the same brand. They look the same to me."
Gallagher called him over with a finger. "All the others are placed with the brand name facing forward but these pliers are the other way around. And look, three in one oil. He'll have wiped the door lock with his hanky probably but I wonder if he remembered to do the oil can. It might be worth getting it fingerprinted. I would if I were you."
"But why didn't he just bolt the back door and leave by the front, much easier?"
Gally smiled. "Because, judging by the number of locks on the front door, Timothy Eddlestone was security conscious and Copeland, being his best mate, would have known it. It was probably the first thing Timothy did every time he got home. The bolts and the door chain not being on would have been too easy to spot. It would have stood out that he'd opened the door to someone and probably someone he knew. Callers usually come to the front door. The rear? Well, people tend to lock their front door but leave the back open for their own use, especially in the summer and especially when you've got a nice yard or garden. The back door top and bottom bolts being on or not could be easily overlooked in all the excitement of kicking the door in, just as it has been, actually."
Stepping out, he closed the shed door and took a look around. "Yeah, only the next-door neighbour is in a position to overlook the garden. I think Copeland was like a pig in shit once he'd calmed down and thought it over. Then he goes home, gets changed and when he's sobered up a bit more he makes his reappearance as the concerned friend. The two basics of investigation are, Dennis, the first people worthy of closer inspection are always the last to see them alive and the first to find them dead."
He relocked the back door with the key and handed it to the detective. "Of course, this is all supposition but there's enough circumstantial evidence there to attract someone's attention. Oh, and have a look at Copeland's motor. I'll bet when he normally called he parked right outside but this time I think he would have parked somewhere not too far away but out of view. That little track down the road with the big willow over it looks inviting. No chance of tyre tracks now but a few soil and debris samples wouldn't hurt any."
"How do you manage to notice all that?"
"You just have to be looking for it, besides, I have an advantage." He became conspiratorial, a quick look left and right. "This is just between the two of us. If you tell anyone I may have to send someone back to kill you."
They both laughed but Dennis had no idea how close to the truth that could become. Without divulging anything important, Gally told him of the recent issues regarding supposedly depressed government scientists apparently committing suicide and how, as the Director of Finances, Copeland would have been aware of the situation. "So, Dennis, I think once he'd got his act together he came up with a master plan and it's not a bad one at that. Then again, it could be suicide but usually, there's something that points to a reason and I can't find one. Never mind, no one's perfect."
DC Leighton looked worried. He didn't mind a challenge but dabbling in the murky world of 'spies and Government secrets' had left him with a bit of a cold chill. Gallagher recognised the symptoms.
"Don't worry, Dennis. Just do what I've suggested and I'll word my report so you get all the credit. You won't be stuck with it long. SB will be all over it and they can do whatever they want with the file and the information but you'll have the detection. C'mon!” he beckoned. “Have you got a Dennis friendly Sergeant or Inspector we can run this by? I don't want it to be a nasty surprise and it would be nice for you to have a 'friend' on board.”