Unnecessary Death

By Jacky Walker

Working with figures all her life Eve Somerset is persuaded to look in to the possibility of irregularities within the Greenway Holder Group of companies. The Inland Revenue dont have any issues and the police cannot get involved in an unofficial capacity, Eve is sceptical but agrees to see what see what she can find.
When the body found in the burnt out remains of a stolen car is identified as the editor of the local newspaper, Bert Foxley, everyone is in shock. The unexpected arrival of James Foxley helps Eve in many ways but also adds to her confusion.
The investigation in to Bert Foxleys death is going nowhere, no motive, no suspect. Eve is getting nowhere fast as she continues to look into the workings of Greenway Holder getting more confused by the day. But slowly, inexorably the two events are drawing together.
A seemingly unconnected comment from James Foxley and the admission that his brother had been the recipient of a hate campaign that had gone on for years send Eve to the hospital bedside of a long-time acquaintance where she hears a terrible confession. Nothing to do with Berts death, she is assured.
The problems at Greenway Holder and Eves conclusions are handed over to the police and in attempt to help keep an eye on the Greenway Holder staff possibly involved, Eve makes a startling discovery that provides the police with both motive and suspect for the murder of the newspaper editor.
The trial of the accused, which should be straight forward and uncomplicated, proves to be anything but. A Not Guilty plea and the arrival of a hot-shot, media savvy defence barrister and the revelations that follow turn the justice system upside down. Its said you cant get away with murder.......................Dont you believe it!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris UK
• Release date: Dec 21, 2011
• ISBN: 9781469135793

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

I looked at the piles of computer printouts stacked neatly on the floor. Eight pillars of paper representing a company within the Greenway Holder Group of companies. What had I let myself in for? What did Roger Greenway hope or expect me to find? Why hadn’t he told his partner of his long-held suspicion? I didn’t know the answers but would certainly be asking Roger Greenway a few pertinent questions when the opportunity presented itself.

Looking around the office space on the wide first floor landing of my home and then out through the window it was hard to ignore another cold, grey day. The mass of trees that formed Colney Wood on the far side of the river had been coated in yet another layer of frost. Day after day after endless day of biting northerly winds, sub-zero temperatures and only an occasional hint of winter sunshine had penetrated the clouds to lift the gloom. Snow had been forecast and as I looked at the heavy blanket of clouds that appeared to be balanced on the tips of the trees that prospect didn’t seem far away.

Glancing at the time I realised I’d better begin and prepare lunch, Rob and Moira would be arriving soon. At the foot of the stairs I paused and turned the central heating thermostat up a couple of degrees before going into the lounge and piling more logs on the fire. Standing at the sink preparing the vegetables I realised how much I was looking forward to seeing Moira and Rob. I’d only seen them a couple of times since their marriage the previous year and although we had talked on the phone many times it would be nice to be able to sit and have a proper chat. Moira knew that I’d taken on work for the Greenway Holder Group but didn’t know any details and was looking forward to hearing them.

‘Thank you Eve that was delicious,’ Rob Cameron said as he settled himself on the sofa beside his wife and took the cup of coffee offered.

‘Yes Eve, that was wonderful,’ Moira agreed. ‘Now come on don’t keep us in suspense any longer let’s hear about Greenway Holder.’

‘The Greenway Holder group consists of eight small, independently run companies,’ I began, ‘Roger Greenway and Michael Holder started off their working lives as accountants with the same practice however both wanted to work for themselves. Towards the end of the recession they decided it was then or never and so purchased the first business which became Greenway Holder Books.

‘Over the following years they purchased seven more companies all of which had

suffered badly due to the recession. Individually all the companies had been profitable and had just about managed to remain solvent but they needed modernising, streamlining and needless to say a large injection of cash was imperative. As all the companies were in semi-rural locations with a high level of unemployment there were all manner of incentives on offer from the banks as well as local and central government.

‘Eight years ago four of the companies, Greenway Holder Books, Greenway Holder Office Supplies, Greenway Holder Photographic Services and Greenway Holder Software moved from their old premises to a purpose built Business Park on the edge of Colney. Each business still runs independently but is now housed in side-by-side units within the Business Park. The other four companies re-located to a similar site on the far side of Burlescote, the other side of the motorway.’

‘In his days as an accountant Roger Greenway specialised in tax. He maintains that he could look at a company payroll and taking the gross pay and any additional payments he could quite accurately ‘guesstimate’ how much tax and national insurance would be paid on such a figure.’

‘What about the other chap?’ Moira asked.

‘Michael Holder is the IT specialist; Greenway Holder Software is his particular baby. Whilst Roger Greenway oversees the sales force, negotiates contracts that sort of thing Michael takes care of the administrative side of the business as well as collating figures for his brother. I will explain later that part later,’ I said with a smile as both Rob and Moira began to look rather puzzled.

‘How did you get involved,’ Rob asked as he gratefully accepted another cup of coffee.

‘There is a private investigator in town called Peter Wennen, has Moira mentioned him to you?’

Rob nodded, yes Moira had.

‘Peter and Roger Greenway play in the same badminton league out at the health centre. The two men had got talking and Roger had, without going into exact detail, told Peter he thought he had a problem within the company and asked his advice. Peter suggested Roger speak to Detective Inspector Paul Belling, his brother-in-law. Moira and I met him when Adam Vaughan was about. However, Paul Belling couldn’t help, his view being that if the Inland Revenue hadn’t raised any queries then probably his fears were groundless.’

‘Obviously Roger Greenway wasn’t convinced,’ Moira observed.

I nodded, ‘No, Roger was far from convinced.’

‘But why you?’ Rob asked.

‘Years ago when I left school I became a Comptometer Operator and before decimalisation and the advent of computers and desk calculators made me redundant I worked with figures all day, every day and one position I had was with a firm of accountants. My last job as a comptometer operator involved statistical analysis. I’ve worked for accountants and when I was self-employed I did a lot of book-keeping.

‘During the course of a conversation somehow that fact must have come out which is why Peter approached me. Besides which after a lovely holiday with Helen and her family in Boston and a couple of weeks with my mother the weather is so awful at the moment it will be nice to sit in the warmth and comfort of my own home.’

‘So what are you looking for?’ Moira asked.

‘Greenway Holder Software, Michael Holder’s pride and joy, supplied the customised software installed in all the companies within the group. Each software package tailored to the particular needs of the individual company. They all run their own payrolls do their own invoicing, ordering that sort of thing. However since the new software has been running Roger Greenway has become more and more convinced that there is something wrong and insufficient tax and national insurance contributions have been paid.’

‘Worries not shared by the Inland Revenue who would have soon been on the doorstep if they weren’t happy with the returns. What does he expect you to do and, more to the point, why doesn’t he do it himself?’ Rob queried.

I smiled; I’d had the same thoughts myself.

‘Roger Greenway’s excuse for not looking into the supposed problem himself is lack of time. Michael Holder is away on holiday at the moment and as the Group, as a whole, had a better that expected trading year Roger is having to re-think the budgets and sales strategy for the next financial year, that’s his excuse anyway.’

‘What do you think?’ Moira asked.

‘What do I think? I think Roger Greenway is scared of what he might find which is why he wants someone else to look. His partner and joint Managing Director was solely responsible for the design and installation of the software they use. If there is anything untoward going on then Michael Holder is in the right place and has every opportunity to manipulate the figures, after all the computer system is his province.

‘Roger Greenway doesn’t want to be the one who points the finger at his long-time friend and partner. If I find anything, which I very much doubt, my findings will be handed to either the auditors or the police whichever is appropriate.’

‘What about the other companies within the group, the other four what do they do? How are they managed?’ Rob asked thoroughly intrigued.

I pondered for a moment my eyes closed, thinking through the eight companies involved.

‘Books, Office Supplies, Photographic and Software are all located on the Colney Business Park. Greenway Holder Printing, Marketing, Novelties and a small, specialised Import/Export business are out at Burlescote. Greenway Holder head office is housed in what used to be Whedon primary school.’

‘What exactly do all these companies do? Who oversees them on a day-to-day business?’ Rob asked.

‘I’ll have to go and get my notes I get them confused, won’t be a minute.’

Moira collected the used crockery and took them into the kitchen as I returned from upstairs.

‘Okay, here’s the list,’ I said settling myself.

‘Greenway Holder Books. Mainly learning aids, exam revision papers, SAT’s, O levels, A levels and specialised exam related textbooks and dictionaries. That sort of thing, they also have a mail order service and cut-price books all housed within a large warehouse with first floor offices. They also have an Internet sales facility. ‘Next door to them is Greenway Holder Office Supplies a trade-only outlet. Rents out office furniture and every conceivable accessory you can think of. They also supply fax and photocopy paper as well as the smaller items such as paper clips, staplers, and scissors. It’s mainly bulk buying particularly with the smaller items and the paper.

‘Greenway Holder Photographic Services offer a quick turnaround for trade papers and magazines. They have a twenty-four hour service for the general public but from what I gather most of the work is for trade and they work in conjunction with Greenway Holder Printing that is housed in the adjoining unit.

‘Greenway Holder Printing handles these one-off fliers that get delivered with newspapers as well as mail-order catalogues, small-run specialist fanzines, their own company letterheads and in-house forms as well as any other printing that may be required from within the Group.’

Flipping over the page I continued.

‘Greenway Holder Software deals with specialised software requirements mainly educational at primary, senior and higher education level. They also produce CD-ROM’s all with a learning theme.

‘Greenway Holder Marketing handles tele-sales for quite an extensive client list. Takes orders for special edition offers advertised in the national press, you know the sort of thing, the free phone numbers advertised. Then there’s Greenway Holder Import/Export. Accessories for male and female alike, handbags, gloves, fancy goods, ceramics, crystal, top-of-the-range goods. They also employ three members of staff who scour the country looking for unusual items for export. This is where Roger Greenway is mainly involved sorting out contracts and supervising the sales team.’ I explained reading directly from the notes I’d made.

‘Finally the smallest concern within the Group, Greenway Holder Novelties. They supply party paraphernalia to retail outlets but mainly in bulk to the organisers of corporate functions. Again, all top-of-the range stuff. They also source and supply the high-end gifts you get in the Christmas crackers that cost a fortune. That’s about it,’

‘Do Roger Greenway and Michael Holder deal with the day-to-day running?’ Moira asked.

‘No. Someone Roger referred to as Phil, manages the Colney site and someone called Mark, manages those companies located at Burlescote. Any inter-company work that is done is invoiced and paid for as you would any other supplier. Phil and Mark take care of personnel, hiring and firing, credit control, payroll and all the mundane day-to-day things. Michael Holder only gets involved if the computer system, building maintenance or health and safety issues arise.’

‘You mentioned a brother, where does he fit into the scheme?’ Rob asked.

‘Professor Holder, Michael Holder’s brother, is based at Colney University. He is part way through a twenty-year programme aimed at charting and analysing every aspect of the employment habits in the country and obviously needs as much data as he can get. As the Professor started his project at the time as the Greenway Holder Group had been streamlined and the specialised software installed, Roger Greenway and Michael Holder agreed to supply him with data. There are no names or specifics, just job types, a category for either male or female and salary scales, I didn’t really ask about that side it didn’t appear relevant. Michael Holder has a powerful mainframe computer in what was once the coal cellar of the old school so he can not only print off his own requirements without bothering the two site managers but can supply his brother with whatever information he needs.

‘What software did they use before?’ Moira asked, ‘off-the-shelf?’

‘Yes, I think so.’

‘So where are you going to start?’ Rob asked with a smile.

I laughed, ‘God alone knows the answer to that. The stacks of paper upstairs only arrived yesterday. Roger Greenway had Gladys, the pet name for the mainframe, working flat out printing out eight years worth of payroll records. Eight years for eight companies. I haven’t even looked through any of them yet, I’ll think about that tomorrow.’

At nine o’clock Rob and Moira made ready to leave. Already the frost was crusting their car. Through the kitchen window Moira and I looked out onto the gravelled driveway glinting as the moonlight caught the tiny stones. It was obviously a wrench to leave the warmth and comfort of my home but as Rob pointed out to his wife the roads in and around Colney might be gritted but the country lanes down which they had to travel on the last part of their journey home wouldn’t be.

The cold air rushed in as I opened the door for my friends to leave their breath bursting forth, forming clouds of vapour that hung in the still night air. Moira waited whilst her husband scraped the windscreen clear before she pulled her coat tight around her body and hurried from the house. I waved a quick goodbye before shutting out the unwelcome winter weather.

Rob waited patiently until a gritting lorry had passed before pulling out of the driveway. They followed at a distance as the slow moving vehicle made its ponderous way toward the town spreading the mixture of sand and salt haphazardly across the road. Approaching a large traffic island with care Rob paused as the gritting lorry slowed almost to a stop before once again picking up a little speed. Waiting to see if any traffic was approaching a large lorry appeared and swerved round the traffic island the driver clearly struggling with the steering as the rear wheels of his vehicles slid out of control.

Moira gasped as the vehicle slid between the gritting lorry and the front of their car before catching one of its wheels on the kerb tipping the out-of-control vehicle over. As if in slow motion the large lorry began falling demolishing a traffic bollard and coming to rest at an angle against the upright of a tall street light.

Moira and her husband looked at each other in shock as they realised their most direct route home was now well and truly blocked. Rob eased the car forward and drew close to the precariously balanced lorry. Moira lowered the car window and looked out as a startled but thankfully unhurt driver eased his way gingerly to the ground.

‘Are you okay? Need any help?’ she asked.

The driver shook his head.

‘Sorry about that must have caught an icy patch the gritter had missed,’ he said hurriedly, ‘better call the cops I suppose,’ the driver remarked shakily as he walked out into the road and surveyed the damage.

‘You sure, I can do it for you,’ Moira called.

The driver shook his head, ‘No, thanks I’d better call myself then I can explain,’ he said as he pulled a mobile phone from his jacket pocket.

‘Now what,’ Rob asked as Moira closed the window, ‘how do we get out of here?’

Moira chuckled to herself, ‘Take the next exit left it’s a back road and a bit steep but we will eventually reach the motorway,’ she told her anxious husband.

Rob reversed the car back a little and aware of the glistening surface in front of him eased the vehicle onto the narrow, untreated, road.

‘The road climbs quite steeply and there is a nasty blind-bend at the top locally known as ‘the rock’ we all used to play up here when we were kids. Cowboys and Indians, pirates you name it we imagined it. Eve, Jo and I had a den up here at one time,’ Moira informed her husband.

Rob relaxed a little; the narrow road was protected from the elements on one side by a large rock face out of which he could see young saplings had grown where sufficient soil had enabled them to take root. The height of this chunk of stone and the scrubby bushes that grew on it meant the road had nowhere near as much frost on as the main road. Feeling safer Rob looked ahead as the beam from his headlights picked out the chevron warning sign for the sharp bend ahead.

‘Jesus Christ! What’s that?’ Moira exclaimed as they approached the sharp bend. To their right a wall of flame shot up from the side of the road. On a small area of waste ground in front of the craggy rock face a fire began raging. Rob slowed the car and lowered his window. He felt the intense heat immediately and brought the car to a standstill. Suddenly there was a whoosh of flame and momentarily Rob could make out the shape of a car.

‘Dear God, there’s a car on fire!’ he exclaimed.

‘Should I call the fire brigade, do they come out for burning cars?’ Moira asked.

‘We’d better’, Rob said quickly, ‘although it will probably burn itself out given time.’

Another burst of flame shot skywards as Rob inched the vehicle slowly forward and Moira reached into her handbag for her phone.

*

In the biting northerly wind Detective Sergeant Carl Markham stood and surveyed the burnt out wreck. The fire crew that had doused the flames and made the gruesome discovery had resulted in him being called out the night before. Looking over his shoulder he was relieved to see the lanky figure of Detective Chief Inspector Paul Belling striding towards him. The two men greeted each other as the senior of the two surveyed the scene.

‘What have we got Sergeant?’ Paul Belling asked although the answer to his question was staring him in the face.

‘A Mrs Cameron called the fire in at 21:27 last night. A partially overturned vehicle had blocked the exit from the roundabout to the motorway so her and her husband had taken this route.’

‘Any mention of a body?’

‘No. Just a blazing vehicle.’

The stomach-churning acrid smell of burning rubber and hot metal still hung in the cold air. Rubber, metal and other smells Paul Belling didn’t even want to think about. For once he was glad he had skipped breakfast that morning as his stomach reacted to the smell around him. Sensing his superior was ready for the next instalment Det. Sgt. Markham continued.

‘It wasn’t until the fire crew had the fire completely out and was checking the vehicle did they spot the body. A patrol car was called and then me. The doctor came and did the necessary. I secured the scene and left everything until now.’

Paul Belling looked around him. The water from the fire hoses that had gathered on the ground was now frozen solid, the whole area surrounding the burned out wreck resembling a skating rink. He poked at the ice with his foot, as he stood huddled inside his feather-filled padded jacket.

‘Poor bastard, whoever it is,’ he said with feeling. ‘You’d better get Scene of Crime out here but with all this water and the frost-hardened ground I doubt they’ll find much. Anything on the vehicle?’

‘We’re checking guv.’

The two men stood in silence until Paul Belling’s stomach lurched again.

‘Get the wheels in motion Sergeant and report back to me at the station,’ Paul Belling said as with one last look he walked back to where he had left his car.

That’s all I need he thought, its bloody freezing, my wife’s about to have a baby and now some poor bugger’s got himself cremated in a car.

CHAPTER 2

Monday morning arrived and I reluctantly climbed out of my warm comfortable bed. Moira had phoned last night when she and Rob had arrived home after slipping and sliding down the narrow country roads of Oxfordshire. There had been no mention of the near miss with the lorry at the traffic island or of the burning car. Neither had seemed important.

Drawing back the curtains I groaned. Another grey, cold, miserable day. Colney Wood looked bleak and foreboding, a stiff wind whipping through the trees causing the powdery frost to fall like talcum powder to the ground. Heading for the bathroom and a hot shower I suddenly felt glad that I had Roger Greenway’s problems to think about, at least there would be a legitimate reason for staying indoors away from the inclement weather.

Showered, dressed, breakfasted and wrapped up against the cold I took my car from the garage and drove into town. The first stop was the stationers where I purchased packs of pencils, a ruler, a pack of highlighter pens, two packs of multicoloured Post-It pads, paper clips, a selection of bulldog clips ranging from very small to huge and a pad of plain paper and an A4 sized memo pad before heading for the supermarket.

Driving out of town I looked toward the heavens, the clouds seemed to be so low they were almost touching the buildings and the snow that had been promised for the past four or five days seemed only seconds away. I went round the supermarket as if planning for a siege, buying two of most things and three of others, if I didn’t have to leave the house for weeks, so much the better.

Stopping briefly at Walters Wine Bar for a quick lunch I was disappointed that none of my friends were there. Cold and miserable it most certainly was but perhaps by Friday the sun would be shining and people would be smiling again instead of hurrying around the town twice as fast as normal. People with heads bent against the biting wind all rushing to get their errands done as soon as possible enabling them to retire to the warmth of their office or home.

Dumping the groceries and stationery purchases on the kitchen floor I garaged the car. Turning the lock and breathing a sigh of relief as I realised it didn’t matter how bad the weather got I could stay indoors—for weeks if necessary!

I didn’t notice the sound until a car door slammed and I realised someone had driven right up to the front door. Pulling the door open I was amazed to see Moira standing in front of her.

‘Forgive me if I sound amazed and it’s not that I’m not pleased to see you but I have to ask what are you doing here, have I missed your call?

‘Come on let’s get out of the cold,’ Moira urged.

Moira waited whilst I put away the groceries leaving only the bag of stationery items to be dealt with. By the time I sat down Moira had made a pot of coffee and was obviously anxious to talk.

‘When Rob and I left here we had a close encounter with an out of control lorry followed by the discovery of a burning car up by the rock, do you remember, where we had our den?’

I nodded, ‘Yes, I do.’

‘I contacted the fire brigade about the car fire and then we headed home. There was nothing we could do it burst into flames as we came upon it and we had no fire extinguisher so I dialled 999 and thought no more about it.

‘The last ten miles or so were dreadful and Rob was exhausted by the time we got home. Well, we had the police on the phone this morning. Apparently when the fire had been extinguished a body was discovered and so Rob and I have had to come over and tell them what we saw, not that we could say much we didn’t see anything, we hardly stopped.’

‘How awful, did the police tell you what had happened?

‘No, they wanted to know why we had taken that particular route home and had we seen anyone or any other vehicles, which we hadn’t so there was precious little we could tell them.’ Moira explained

‘Where’s Rob?’ I asked.

‘I’ve got a client to see in a couple of hours and Rob has decided to go down to London and bring any files he can work on at home back with him. You haven’t had any snow here yet but we have in Oxfordshire and if we are going to be marooned at home at least we’ll be together and we can get some work done.’

Moira stayed and went over the events of the previous evening a number of times before she left for her appointment. I took my purchases from the stationers up to the wide landing that acted as office space and after placing them all on the desk, began slicing through the concertina’d computer printouts with a ruler. By the time my back felt as if it were breaking from bending over I’d managed to split the mountains of paper into eight separate payroll years and eight companies. I’d hurried across to the garage and fetched the wallpaper-pasting table that I’d erected and pushed under the window upon which eight evenly split companies were now arranged. Standing back looking at my endeavours I felt pleased. Now I could start looking for whatever was worrying Roger Greenwood.

For hours I studied the printouts making notes as I worked. Some names kept appearing then disappearing only to reappear on the payroll for another company within the Group. The more I looked the more confused I became. Six out of the eight companies had been looked through before tiredness called a halt to the process. Later, sat in bed looking through the notes I’d made I decided to contact Roger Greenway first thing the following morning, there seemed little point in continuing until I had an explanation of an apparently small band of transient employees.

A light dusting of snow had fallen during the night and more threatened as I parked outside the seemingly deserted school that now housed the Greenway Holder Group head office. Roger Greenway escorted me to his office and listened carefully to my questions.

‘Sorry, I should have explained,’ he said apologetically. ‘Come with me, it’ll be easier if I show you what’s downstairs.’

Roger Greenway led me down into the basement and into a small room that had been lined with shelves. On the shelves stacked neatly side-by-side were dozens and dozens of boxes that had once held photocopy paper but were now filled with Application for Employment forms. The box Roger headed for was labelled TEMPS.

‘When people retire from any of our companies we always ask if they would like to come back on an as-and-when basis,’ he explained, ‘at certain times, stocktaking, holiday periods or if there’s an outbreak of ‘flu we can call on these people to fill the gap. As, from an administrative point of view, all the companies are run along the same lines any ex-employee can fill the gap quite easily. They are used to the paperwork and know how our systems work. From our point of view it works well because to get someone from an agency would mean training them and often there simply isn’t the time so an employee who knows their way around saves a lot of time and effort.’

I looked at the box and shuddered there must be at least fifty or more forms in the box.

‘I wouldn’t want to take the box with me but I do need a list of the names, I suppose I could write them down,’ I said thoughtfully.

‘No need,’ Roger Greenway said quickly, ‘I can photocopy the front cover for you that way you will have name, address and national insurance number. I know for certain that we have at least three people named John Jackson in the box and a couple of our regular female temps have the same name, there may be more so the NI number will help to differentiate one from the other.’

Feeling relieved that the problem had been resolved quickly I glanced around the room and whilst the photocopier rhythmically hummed and whirred I asked what the purpose was for keeping such a vast amount of job application forms.

‘When Michael and I took over each individual company obviously we inherited the personnel files as well. These are kept mainly to aid Michael’s brother with his research. It’s become a habit really. These boxes contain details of everyone who has ever worked for us. When an employee leaves any of our companies their original application form is returned here and filed. Sometimes an ex-employee will re-apply for a position and so it’s useful to have their original form to refer to.’

‘Why have they all got photographs?’ I asked rather intrigued.

Roger Greenway laughed.

‘When you’ve spent most of the day interviewing and then come to make a decision it’s a great deal easier when you can put a face to the name. Again it’s one of those procedures we inherited and have found useful.’

‘If I need to check anything else out can I come up here and what do I say if you’re not here?’

‘Yes, good point and I’d already given it some thought. I haven’t told anyone, not even my secretary what you’re doing so I suggest I simply tell her that you need access to this room for the purpose of checking some figures, which, after all, is almost the truth. If Annette, my secretary, assumes you’re working on Gerald’s statistics then so be it. I don’t like being deceitful but at the moment I think it’s best that the fewer people who know about your checking the better, don’t you?’ he said with a slightly embarrassed smile.

I agreed and armed with the pile of still warm paper we climbed back up the stairs and returned to his office.

‘It’s very quiet,’ I remarked as a phone in a nearby office went unanswered.

‘We don’t have a large staff here and things are always slow after Christmas so some of the staff take a holiday others, like my secretary, are ill at the moment with coughs and colds.’

The persistent ringing of a telephone caused Roger Greenway to excuse himself and went off to answer the call. I looked around the office at the walls adorned with photographs. It seemed to me that everyone who had retired had had their photograph taken as they had been presented with a leaving present from an ever-smiling Roger Greenway.

‘Do you always do this?’ I asked pointing at the photographs when he returned.

‘Yes, we do. Initially there was a great deal of uncertainty when we took over the various companies but the employees were loyal and many stayed and the presentations were our way of saying thank you. Now when an employee retires we do the same, there are a number of photo’s that need to go on the wall but just having had a bumper year all round I’m afraid it’s one of those jobs that gets left.’

I hurried home and scrapped all the notes I’d made and returned the piles of printouts to their original position. With the photocopied forms to hand I began searching through the lists and highlighting the names of Greenway Holder’s band of temporary workers.

*

Tuesday morning saw Detective Chief Inspector Paul Belling running swiftly up the steps of the police station. At eight minutes past midnight his wife had presented him with a beautiful baby daughter and as mother and child were doing well he felt as if the worries of the world had been lifted from his shoulders. Smiling and waving at the calls of congratulations from his colleagues he sat behind his desk and waited for Detective Sergeant Markham to gather his paperwork together before taking a seat in front of his superior’s desk.

‘Any news on the car?’ was the first question.

‘According to the DVLA the car is registered to a Mrs Margaret Sharp at an address in Benchley. Yesterday afternoon a Mr Graham Moltby with an address in Benchley reported the car stolen. The local force is checking with Mr Moltby and I’m waiting for them to call back.’

‘Anything from the post mortem?’

‘According to the preliminary report the victim is male. No younger than forty, no older than sixty. Dr Redfern is being his usual reticent self but he did say the victim lived well and had had some very intricate and expensive dental work done which may be needed to assist us when it comes to a positive identification. Given the state of the body we may have to wait a little longer than normal for the full post mortem report. You know how it is.’

Paul Belling wasn’t surprised. ‘Anything else?’ he asked.

‘Just one message for you, Peter Wennen phoned and said he needed to speak to you asap.’

‘Okay. You hang on here and as soon as you’ve heard from Benchley let me know the outcome. I’m going down to see what, if anything, forensics has got from the car and then I’ll go and see Pete Wennen. That it?’

‘Colds and chest infections have reduced the number of officers we have to call on but at least the cold weather seems to be keeping the villains off the streets,’ DS Markham said as he left the room.

Two members of the forensic team clad in coveralls were examining the burned out vehicle as it stood in the middle of the garage floor. Paul Belling wandered across and spoke to the senior officer.

‘What have you got for me Ted?’ he asked

Ted Brown walked across shook Paul Belling’s hand and congratulated him on the birth of his daughter before his face became grave and he turned to face the wreckage.

‘Two types of accelerant used, petrol on the exterior, lighter fluid on the interior.’

‘Suicide?’ Paul Belling asked quietly.

Ted Brown thought for a while without taking his eyes off the car.

‘Wouldn’t have thought so. Although the body appeared to be very badly burnt, from the amount of accelerant used on the interior of the vehicle it would have been like dropping a sausage into very hot fat—the outside would cook and burn quickly but the inside wouldn’t.

‘Also I can safely say the body was in situ before the vehicle was set ablaze as we have found no trace of accelerant on the seat the victim was sat on. Where the body had protected the seat covering it was hardly scorched, also some of the victims clothing from under the legs and where the shoulders had been pressed against the seat remained intact. There’s an amount of melted plastic or polythene, possibly the car had been serviced and the garage would have slipped a cover over the driver’s seat to protect it from whatever the mechanic had on his overalls.

‘With this type of accelerant, petrol and lighter fuel, it’s the fumes that ignite. To get a good blaze going the accelerant should be left awhile giving the fumes chance to build up but in this case that didn’t happen. You can see from the burn pattern on the interior where the lighter fuel had been squirted over the upholstery and the fact that although it looks bad I’ve seen a lot worse.

‘The registration plates are intact and no attempt has been made to remove the chassis number and other identifying marks. So in answer to your question was it suicide, I don’t think so but we’ll keep checking. The key was in the ignition and the doors hadn’t been locked. The victim wasn’t wearing the seat belt or had unfastened it when the vehicle stopped.

‘Whatever the reason, it was an amateur job. Close the doors and windows and allow the fumes to build up. Chuck in a match, open the window a crack and you’ll have a good blaze going in no time. A pro would have left a window open. Fire is fuelled by oxygen. Starve a fire of oxygen and it will go out. It’s the mistake a lot make with a house fire, they think opening a window will let the smoke out but all that does is allow oxygen in which makes the blaze worse. That’s about all I can tell you at the moment.’

‘What’s that on the bonnet?’

‘Melted polythene. What’s left, I suspect of one of the containers the petrol was in. The other container,’ he explained pointing to a mass stuck to what was left of a tyre, ‘is there. There was no cap on either container and it looks as if the second one was knocked over which allowed the contents to pool around the vehicle making the blaze look worse than it was.’

‘Thanks Ted,’ Paul Belling said as he walked toward the door mulling over the information.

Lights shone clearly through the windows of Peter Wennen’s office as Paul Belling parked his car in the space allotted for visitors to the private investigator.

‘Your child put in an appearance yet?’ Peter Wennen asked as his visitor entered.

‘Yes, a girl at just after midnight, mother and child are fine,’ he replied with obvious pride. ‘I got a message you wanted a word asap, what’s the problem?’

Peter Wennen’s smile stayed long enough to offer his congratulations before vanishing, as he indicated to his friend to pull up a chair.

‘James Foxley called round to see me last night apparently