Beautiful Oblivion

By Robert Mills

Sixties cult rock band, Beautiful Oblivion, were only together for a few years before tensions between the band members led to their break up. When the band’s drummer, Jimmy Jacobson, is found dead with a knife in his back, Inspector Sanjay Patel must determine whether the crime relates to events in the recent past or those which occurred during the band’s hay day. Has Jacobson been killed for his money by his young lover? Was the killer his estranged wife or their son, who only receive modest bequests in his will? Or is it an act of revenge by one of his former band mates?

To answer these questions, he must investigate the background of the main beneficiary of his will, Karly Rudge, the complex love life of his son, Michael and dodgy dealings in the music business. The team discover Karly has another lover who also has a lot to gain from the drummer’s death. And then Jacobson’s business partner, Nigel Smith, is beaten to death with one of his own golf clubs. Is this the work of a second killer or are the two crimes related? Could both murders be the work of a criminal on remand who suspects that he has been betrayed by Jacobson and Smith?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Troubador Publishing Ltd
• Release date: Feb 28, 2023
• ISBN: 9781803137803

Robert Mills

Robert Mills was born in 1950 and trained as a doctor in London. He worked as a consultant ENT surgeon in Dundee and Edinburgh. After retiring from the British Health Service and his marriage to a Thai doctor, he moved to Thailand. He has three children and three grandchildren, all of whom live in the UK. Burlington Bertie is Robert’s sixth published novel with Troubador Publishing.

Book preview

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Chapter One

Detective Inspector Sanjay Patel uncoiled himself from the passenger seat of the car with an easy grace. He was an impressive figure, tall and slim with an aquiline nose and large brown eyes. In his younger days he had sported a moustache but had shaved it off when he was an undergraduate because – though he would be loath to admit it – he thought it made him look typically Indian.

He stood for a moment, inspecting the house, which was large and imposing and set well back from the road. The facade was red brick and the eaves, window frames and large front door were all painted white. Two dormer windows were set into the roof, overlooking a gravelled area on which stood an expensive-looking red sports car and a small hatchback.

Sanjay and his companion, Detective Constable Paul Owen, retrieved their crime-scene overalls from the car and crunched over the gravel to the front door. They rang the bell and waited. After an interval the door was opened by a uniformed officer and they were admitted to the spacious hall.

The body’s through here, said the constable, a rather overweight young man with a ruddy complexion. He led them through a door on the left into a large sitting room.

Under normal circumstances the focal point of the room would probably have been the impressive hi-fi system with its enormous speakers, or the bookshelves which covered the wall opposite the doorway and were crammed with books and CDs. On this occasion, however, the detectives’ gaze was focused on the body that lay face down on the carpet in the middle of the room with the head turned to one side. The victim was clearly a man of mature years, dressed in jeans and a denim shirt. His grey hair had been cut short in a modern style and he had a full beard trimmed very short, almost to the point where it would be better described as designer stubble. From between his shoulder blades the black wooden handle of a large knife protruded, its blade presumably deep within his chest. Close to the body, a square-shaped object lay on the carpet. A photographer was taking pictures of the body and a scene-of-crime officer was dusting for fingerprints. There were some signs of disarray in the room: a dining chair lay on its side and a painting above the fireplace hung at a bizarre angle.

Sanjay took all this in as he crossed the space between the doorway and the prostrate form of the deceased. He inspected the knife more closely and then turned his attention to the object on the floor. It was a plastic CD box, but it was not obvious whether there was a disc inside. Sanjay squatted down so that he could take a closer look at it. The cover design showed a landscape portrayed in unnatural colours, over which the words ‘Incredible Journey’ and ‘Beautiful Oblivion’ were printed in ornate lettering. I don’t believe it, said Sanjay. It’s the second album. It’s my favourite of theirs; there are some great numbers on it. He turned to the constable. Do we know the victim’s name?

Yes, sir, it’s James Alfred Jacobson.

Sanjay gasped. Wow, Jimmy Jacobson, he said. I didn’t know he lived round here.

Forgive my ignorance, said Owen, but who exactly is – or, rather, was – Jimmy Jacobson?

He was the drummer of the ’60s rock band Beautiful Oblivion. As it happens, I’m a fan of their music. Sanjay Patel turned to the nearest SOCO. Have you guys dusted this CD box for prints?

Yes, sir, he said.

Sanjay slipped on a pair of gloves, picked up the box and opened it. It’s empty, he said. Can you check if the CD’s in that player?

The machine’s switched on, said Owen. If the CD is in it, maybe it was playing around the time of the murder.

Maybe, said Sanjay.

The tray of the machine slid out and Owen peered at the disc that rested within it. It’s the one from that box all right, he said.

Interesting, said Sanjay. He stood up and put the CD box into an evidence bag.

Looks like he did very well out of the music business, said Owen, surveying the room. Presumably this band made a lot of money.

They must have done when they were together. Mind you, they only lasted a few years. They haven’t made a new record since the mid ’70s. Presumably Jacobson had the good sense to invest his share of the money wisely. Sanjay turned to the constable. Who found the body?

His girlfriend, replied the young officer, consulting his notebook. She’s called Karly Ann Rudge. She’s, er, a lot younger than him.

He must have been in his sixties at least, said Sanjay. How old do you think she is?

Early twenties; I didn’t actually ask.

Where is she now?

In the kitchen. Do you want to talk to her right away?

Sanjay shook his head. All in good time, he said. I need to have a more detailed look at the crime scene before I start interviewing witnesses.

Owen went over to the shelves nearest to the hi-fi system, which were crammed with compact discs in their boxes. The box on the floor probably came from here, he said, pointing to one of the middle shelves.

Quite possibly, said Sanjay, and went over to join him. "Yes, here are the band’s other records: Beautiful Oblivion, that was the first one; Knave of Hearts, the third; and Brief Encounter, the last one."

Do you think Jacobson grabbed the CD box because he thought it would tell us something? said Owen.

This idea hadn’t occurred to Sanjay. It’s possible, I suppose, he said. On the other hand, the killer might have put it there for some reason. He thought for a moment. I don’t see any evidence to suggest that Jacobson dragged himself over to that shelf after he was stabbed. I think it’s more likely that the killer did it.

Unless Jacobson just happened to be holding it when he was stabbed and dropped it on the floor, said Owen. I don’t know what you think, but it doesn’t tell me anything.

Sanjay shook his head. I don’t see its relevance either, he said. There’s some evidence here that could suggest a struggle, but not as much as you might have expected. Is there any evidence of forced entry, Constable?

Not that I’ve seen, sir. Mind you, I haven’t been in all the rooms.

We’ll take a detailed look at the rest of the house later. On the basis of what we know so far, it looks as if the victim knew the killer and let him in himself. Where was this Karly when he was killed?

She says she was out, said the constable. Found the body when she got back.

So, if the girlfriend’s not the killer, Jacobson let them in and he didn’t have any reason to fear this person – or persons – because he had his back to his assailant when he was stabbed. I wonder where the knife came from?

Looks like a kitchen knife to me, said Owen.

If Jacobson knew the murderer well, he might have taken them into the kitchen. Sanjay scanned the room and his eye lighted on a low table near the window, on which stood a coffee pot and two cups. Closer inspection revealed that the cups were empty, with no evidence that either had contained coffee. OK, so he made his guest coffee but was killed before they got round to drinking it. That could indicate the murder was premeditated.

Owen shrugged. They might have quarrelled before they started on the coffee, he said. The murderer could have lost his temper and stabbed him.

Sanjay shook his head. I don’t think that’s very likely, he said. You don’t normally find kitchen knives in the sitting room, which means that someone brought it in here deliberately. I can’t think of a reason why Jacobson would have done so, which makes it likely that the killer either took it from the kitchen or brought it from home – more likely the former. He inspected the handle of the knife again. I reckon it must have required considerable force to drive it in that deep, so it was probably a man who did it.

Looking out of the bay window, he saw the pathologist, Dr Alison Jarvis, arriving.

Right, he said. We’ll talk to Karly now and give Alison space to work in here. Come on, Paul, we’ll go through to the kitchen.

Karly Rudge was a skinny young woman whose jet-black hair contrasted sharply with her pale skin. Her lipstick was also dark, and this, together with the piercings in her nose, upper lip and right eyebrow, gave her a zombie-like appearance, Sanjay thought. She wore a pair of skin-tight black jeans and a sleeveless black top with a skull printed on the front of it. The outfit was completed by a pair of black lace-up boots. The kitchen was large and there was a sizeable pine table with eight chairs. Karly sat on one of these, her left arm resting on the table. She looked up from her phone when the policemen came in.

I’m Inspector Patel and this is Constable Owen, said Sanjay. We’d like to ask you a few questions. He and Owen sat down at the opposite side of the table from Karly, and Owen retrieved his notebook from his jacket pocket. What time did you find the body?

Must have been about three, she replied. I come home and there he was on the floor.

Where had you been?

Went to see me mum, didn’t I?

Where does your mother live?

New Addington; I went down in the car.

Sanjay knew that New Addington was outside Croydon, beyond the edge of the city, but he wasn’t sure how long it would take to drive there from Wimbledon Village. He would need to find out. What time did you leave to go down there? he said.

About 9.30.

And when did you come back?

I left Mum’s just after two. I took her for lunch and came straight back after I dropped her home.

It was too early to be sure that Karly wasn’t the killer but she didn’t look capable of overpowering and killing a man who must have weighed two or three times as much as she did. Assuming that she was telling the truth, there had been plenty of time for someone else to arrive at the house while she was away.

Did Mr Jacobson say he was expecting a visitor today? said Owen.

He said someone might pop round.

Did he say who?

No.

Sanjay considered whether Jacobson would have been likely to tell Karly the name of his visitor, and decided it was entirely plausible that he would have withheld that information. That could be because he considered it to be none of her business, or because he didn’t want her to know the visitor’s identity for some reason. Could that be because it was a woman? Sanjay thought it was unlikely, though not impossible.

Do you know of anyone else who might have visited the house earlier in the day? he said.

Mrs Byrne would’ve been in this morning.

Who’s she?

She’s the cleaner; always comes in to do downstairs on a Wednesday.

What time would she have arrived?

She normally gets here about ten and she’s generally gone by one.

Where does she live?

Down Morden way; she comes up on the bus.

Mrs Byrne would have to be interviewed in due course. If nothing else, her presence in the house would likely narrow the period of time during which the crime could have been committed.

Sanjay inspected Karly more closely. They were certainly an odd couple, the ageing rock star and this girl who was young enough to be his daughter, perhaps even his granddaughter.

How long have you known Mr Jacobson? he said.

I been with him three years.

How did you meet?

"It was in Burger King; I used to work there. He was a regular customer, yeah? Course, I didn’t know who he was then, but when I found out I was gobsmacked that a bloke like him would go to a place like that. I asked him about it and he said he liked the hamburgers. He used to eat ’em all the time when he was on tour in the States and he got hooked. Anyway, he always spoke to me when he come in. He was friendly, like. He used to try and make me laugh, and I usually did before he’d gone.

"Then one night, me and a few mates from work went for a drink at The Prince of Wales. Jimmy come in with some geezer and ordered a couple of pints. The other bloke left after a bit, but Jimmy stayed on to finish his drink. Then he spotted me and come over. ‘May I join you?’ he goes in that posh voice of his, and I said, ‘Yeah, all right.’ We had a right laugh, and after a bit he’s like, ‘Why don’t you lot come back to my place?’ Said we could order pizza and have a few drinks. Me mates weren’t sure about it but I said it would be OK, so we went. We all got in a cab and went up to the village. When I saw the house, I couldn’t believe my fucking eyes. Anyway, we went in and he put on one of his old records, and we was dancing around, having a great time. He had plenty of booze in the house and we all got totally bladdered. In the end, the other girls passed out on the floor. Me and him went on talking, and then he said he was going to bed. We left the girls where they was laying and went upstairs. He couldn’t get it up so I give him a blow job.

"Next morning we all felt pretty rough. He done us breakfast and then the girls got a cab. I stayed on, ’cause I wasn’t working that day. We sat talking for most of the morning. Then he said, ‘Why don’t we go for a walk?’ So we went on the Common for a bit. We had lunch at The Dog & Fox and then come back here. We spent the afternoon in bed and he done pretty good for an old bloke, I thought. Anyway, after a couple of weeks he asked me to move in, and I thought, Why not?"

As Karly was speaking a faraway look came into her eyes. Sanjay tried, with some difficulty, to hide his surprise at some of the details in her account, but she didn’t seem to notice anything amiss. He cleared his throat. Did Mr Jacobson have any family that you know of? he said.

He’s got a wife – well, ex-wife – and a kid, a boy.

Did you ever meet them?

Karly shook her head.

He didn’t go and see them much, and when he did he left me at home, she said. I was glad; it would have been a bit weird ’cause his son’s older than me.

Did his ex-wife or son ever come to the house?

Not while I was here.

The former Mrs Jacobson and the victim’s son would have to be interviewed as well. Sanjay wondered if they were aware that the deceased had been living with this curious young woman. Maybe he had decided not to mention that fact.

Do you know where his ex-wife lives? said Owen.

Somewhere in Beckenham, I think; I don’t know the address.

What about his son?

He’s married. They don’t live in London no more.

They would need to establish what sort of relationship Jacobson had had with his son. If the latter had known about Karly it was quite possible that he would have disapproved of the relationship, but that was unlikely to be a motive for murder.

Sanjay considered his next question. Do you have any idea who would have wanted Mr Jacobson dead? he said.

I reckon it was the ex-wife, said Karly with feeling. He told me she was pissed off because he was living in this bloody great house and she was in a flat.

What’s her name?

Sonia.

Did she marry again, as far as you know?

No. I mean, who’d want an old bird like that?

Sanjay suppressed a smile.

Thank you, Miss Rudge, he said. That’s all for now, but I’ll probably need to talk to you again.

Sanjay sent Owen to look round the rest of the house while he returned to the sitting room. As he entered, he saw Alison Jarvis bending over the body. The young pathologist was dressed in white overalls with a hood that was turned back a little to reveal some of her thick red hair. At the sound of Sanjay’s footfall she turned and smiled.

Ah, there you are, Jay, she said. They told me you were here. I expect you’d like to know the time of death?

Yes, if you can tell me. We think he was killed sometime between 9.30 this morning and two o’clock this afternoon.

I was teasing; I’ll tell you as precisely as I can after the PM, but I doubt I’ll be able to narrow it down much within the time frame you’ve already established. I can tell you that there’s no evidence of a cause of death other than stabbing, though of course more information may come to light during the PM.

Sanjay nodded and smiled.

Would it have taken much strength to do this? he said. Could a woman have done it, for example?

I’ll need to look at the exact route by which the knife entered the chest. It went in to the left of the spinal column, suggesting that the assailant was aiming for the heart. It would have had to penetrate the ribcage somehow. However, it looks as if the blade was turned on its side, which suggests to me that the murderer was hoping to slide it between the ribs. I imagine it would still require a fair amount of strength, depending on how sharp the blade was. I’ll be able to tell you more after I’ve opened the chest.

Owen had decided to investigate upstairs first. He climbed the carpeted staircase with its thick oak banister. The narrow landing was rather dark, the only natural light coming from a window at the front of the house, just above the front door. On this level, four doors led off it, each giving access to a sizeable bedroom with an en-suite bathroom. The bedroom at the back of the house on the right was the largest, and the only one with any signs of recent occupation. Its bathroom was much larger than the others, with a Jacuzzi bath as well as a shower cubicle. Owen checked all the windows and found no evidence of forced entry. Another staircase led up to the attic, and Owen climbed it to the top floor, which was within the roof space and housed a further two bedrooms and another bathroom.

Returning to the ground floor, he entered the room opposite the kitchen and found that it had been set up as a home cinema with a screen and projector. A number of large leather chairs faced the screen, and there was a drinks cabinet against one wall. The only windows were set in the rear wall of the room and were covered by blackout blinds. Owen raised one of these and looked out onto the large indoor swimming pool he had first seen through one of the kitchen windows. On the other side of the hall was a dining room, which connected to the kitchen via a second door, and a small study in which a large-screen desktop computer sat on a glass-topped table. Also on the table was an address book, and Owen popped this into an evidence bag and took it with him for later inspection.

The doorbell rang and Sanjay went to see who was there. He had expected the head of Merton’s Major Investigation Team, Chief Inspector Tracy Taylor, but instead he was confronted by the all-too-familiar figure of Superintendent Barry Cheeseman, known to his junior officers as ‘the Cheeseburger’.

I heard some sort of celebrity had been bumped off and thought I’d better come and have a look for myself, said Cheeseman, with the air of someone who felt that he needed to justify his presence, though strictly speaking his rank made this unnecessary. Tracy will be along later.

Well, sir, the victim’s a former rock star, said Sanjay.

What’s his name?

Jacobson, sir; he was part of a band called Beautiful Oblivion.

Oh yeah, I remember them, said Cheeseman. Then he added hastily, Mind you, they were a bit before my time. Where’s the body?

Sanjay led him into the sitting room, where Owen was perusing the contents of the bookshelves. Alison had completed her preliminary examination and was about to leave, but the SOCOs were still hard at work.

Cheeseman surveyed the scene, then turned to Sanjay. Can I have a word, Jay? he said. Is there somewhere we can talk in private?

There’s a study just across the hall, said Owen.

This is going to be a high-profile case, said Cheeseman, when he and Sanjay were alone. Once the press get wind of the fact that the victim’s a former rock star they’ll be all over us like a rash. Tracy will be the chief investigating officer, of course, but I’ll expect regular updates, understood?

No problem, sir.

Chapter Two

Amber Patel had made it home before Sanjay and the preparations for dinner were well under way by the time he arrived. He came through to the kitchen and kissed her on the cheek.

How was your day? she said.

Busy, he said. We’ve got a new murder case.

That’ll please you, eh? she said, giving him a cheeky grin.

He knew all too well that she could never resist teasing him about his fascination with murder inquiries, and decided to change the subject. What’s for dinner? he said.

I’ve made a shepherd’s pie.

As they sat together over the empty plates, Amber’s curiosity got the better of her and she asked about the new case.

Sanjay smiled. The victim was stabbed in the back with what looks like a kitchen knife, he said. He’s a former rock star; the drummer in a band called Beautiful Oblivion.

The name’s familiar but I can’t place them.

They were big in the late ’60s and early ’70s. They didn’t make many records but there are some great songs on the ones they did produce. They had one hit single that made number two in the charts. It was called ‘Speed Queen’.

Amber frowned.

How come you know so much about them? she said. You weren’t even born when they were recording.

"I had a friend at university who was a big fan and he got me into them. He had all their records. Come to think about it, I’ve got a copy of Incredible Journey somewhere. It’s a digitally remastered version of the original vinyl record. He went across to the shelf where their modest music collection was stored and searched until he found the CD he wanted. The thing is, he said as he walked back to the table, there was a copy of this particular CD close to the body when we found him."

What, you mean he was trying to tell you who stabbed him?

Sanjay shook his head. I don’t think so. Actually, it’s probable that the killer put it there, unless his girlfriend did it when she found the body, for some warped reason.

Let me have a look at the CD. Amber took the box and opened it. Inside