“How did he die?”
“We’re not at liberty to discuss the finer points of the case. But I can tell you we believe he was murdered. Furthermore, you’ll appreciate that as you were among the last to see him alive, we need to conduct certain examinations that may shed light on – ”
“You suspect
“We have to explore every avenue of enquiry, and that starts with searching your rooms.”
“You can’t do that without a warrant.”
“Actually, we can if we suspect that there’s evidence on the premises. I’d prefer your permission to act, but it’s not a legal requirement. I’m afraid that’s just the start. I’ll need to impound all electronic communication devices, including phones, laptops, PCs and so on, so I’ll need all your passwords.”
“We need them for our work,” protested Ruby. She sounded numb.
“I appreciate that, so we’ll be supplying you with alternative access to computers, and I can confirm you’ll be able to request specific study documents, which we’ll copy onto a separate hard drive exclusively for your use.”
“That’s a bit over the top,” said Theo. “It could throw my studies off-track.”
“Christ, Matt’s dead and all you can think about is your bloody schedules?” Toby complained.
“It’s all right for you, poor boy, you’re going to fail anyway,” Theo barked back. He turned to the detectives. “What can we do to get through this as quickly and painlessly as possible?”
“Our forensic team will be arriving in a few minutes to begin conducting searches of your rooms,” said May. “You can take what you need, provided it’s under supervision from a member of the Unit. We’ll detail all property removed from the site, and make sure it’s returned to you as soon as we can. If anyone has any concerns or objections – ”
“I don’t want you searching my room,” Nikos blurted. Everyone turned to look at him.
“I’m afraid you have no choice in the matter,” May told him. “If you have nothing to hide, you have nothing to worry about. There are a few further things I want to bring up. Our assistant, Detective Sergeant Longbright, will need to update each of your statements, concerning your whereabouts on Tuesday night, with further names and addresses of everyone who can confirm your location.”
“Why should we help you?” asked Theo. “I mean, if you already have the powers you need?”
“A fair question, but I’d like to think you would want to do it for Matthew Hillingdon, to help us for his sake. We have no motive for his death. We need to find out who he was with that night. I’m sure I don’t need to warn you about obstructing the due process of what is now an official investigation. Miss Cates, I understand you and Mr Fontvieille had a falling-out – ”
“Have you been following us? Who the hell do you think you are?”
“We’re a specialist investigatory unit under the control of the Home Office, and you are civilians. Trust me, you don’t want to fall into the hands of the Metropolitan Police. What did the two of you argue about?”
“We need to borrow some money to pay the rent and electricity,” said Ruby. “I asked Theo to cover the bills and he refused. I just thought he should agree to help us through a rough patch.”
“It’s a matter of principle,” said Fontvieille. “If we can’t manage our bills now, how can we be expected to construct and run entire social environments that might one day involve millions of pounds? Think it through, Ruby.”
“Anyway, I borrowed the money from Toby,” Ruby replied, coldly.
“Ah, yes, you’re quite well off at the moment, is that right?” May checked his notes.
“An aunt died and left me some money,” Toby muttered. The lie was so blatant that it hung in the air, a balloon of a falsehood waiting to be punctured.
“Well, you can give our detective sergeant all the details on that. Mr Fontvieille, I understand you used to date Cassie Field, the manager of the Karma Bar, is that true?”
“It’s common knowledge,” replied Theo airily.
“Not to me, it’s not,” Ruby snapped back.
“What does it matter? It was, like, a whole eight months ago.”
The temperature in the room was heating fast, but in this case May knew that a confrontational atmosphere could pay off; the housemates were becoming upset and dropping their guard.
“We see that two of you have had trouble with the police in the past,” May continued. “Mr Fontvieille, assault; Mr Nicolau, sexual harassment, was it?”
“I got into a fight outside a nightclub in Richmond,” said Fontvieille. “Fairly normal behaviour for a Thames Valley boy, wouldn’t you say?”
“And you, Mr Nicolau?”
“He was caught upskirting,” said Sangeeta.
“A load of us were doing it at the time,” Nicolau admitted. “Kind of embarrassing to think about now.”
“Is this a youngsters’ term I’m not familiar with?” asked Bryant, bewildered.
“It’s the rather grubby little practise of holding a camera under a girl’s skirt in public places, when she’s on a tube escalator for instance, then posting the shot on the Internet,” May translated.
“Oh, charming.” Bryant grimaced. “Is there nowhere a lady is safe these days?”
“Where did they find you two?” asked Theo. “You’re like something out of a display case at the Victoria & Albert Museum. Incredible. If this is going to take ages, do you mind if we order in pizzas?”
“You’re not taking this very seriously, are you?” There was a thread of danger in Bryant’s voice. “You don’t seem to appreciate that all five of you are under suspicion of conspiracy to murder. That is, an agreement between two or more persons to commit an illegal, wrongful act by sinister design, to use a rather archaic definition.”
The overheated room exploded into fits of bad feeling and sour temper, like a series of slightly disappointing fireworks going off. There were indignant complaints and toothless threats, declarations of rights and talk of lawsuits. It was the perfect time for Longbright, Banbury and Renfield to arrive.
Soon all doors had been flung open, all drawers emptied, cupboards cleared, computers unplugged, belongings tagged and bagged, and the fight had gone out of the five students, who watched forlornly as their lives were dissected before them. It appeared the quintet had finally realised that this was no longer a mere inconvenience, but something much darker and more devastating in its consequences.
? Off the Rails ?
36
Empty-Handed
Law-abiding citizens are hard to trace. Albert Thomas Edward Ketch had existed, of that there was no doubt, but he was unknown to the police. The DVLA had a clean driving licence on record, the borough of Islington listed the name on their electoral register, Barclays Bank had a closed account, and a former address in a St Pancras council block yielded nothing but statistical proof that Mr Fox’s father had once been alive.
Longbright needed to put a face to the name. If Mr Fox’s father remained intangible, at least Camden registry office had a marriage licence on file, which presented her with a wife. Ketch had wedded one Patricia Catherine Burton, who had provided the registrar with an address in Wembley. She had moved the same year, presumably to live with her new husband, because the marriage certificate was posted to a different North London address. Her son, Jonas, had been delivered less than six months later at Hampstead’s Royal Free Hospital, and had received health checks for the first four years of his life at clinics in the area. After that, the trail went cold. Mrs Ketch had no bank details or credit cards. Some men still exerted power over their wives by controlling their finances.
“I’m running out of ideas,” Longbright told Renfield as they finished filling in evidence forms for the Mecklenburgh Square house. “I’ve got a little on the parents but nothing on the boy.”
“See if he was registered as a Young Offender under the name of Jonas Ketch,” Renfield suggested. “A tenth of all the kids in London commit a serious offence at least once. If something happened to Mr Fox in his childhood, he might have gone a bit AWOL and turned up on Islington’s books, or Camden’s.”
“Thanks, Jack. I should have thought of that. I’m tired. I haven’t been sleeping well.”
“Hardly surprising. I’m going to grab a bite. Want me to pick you up something?”
“No, I’m fine. I want to get this lot sorted out.”
