‘I’m sorry to raise your daughter’s death. It must be difficult for you.’
‘It is, but Amelia was a reflection of her mother. Delightful but fickle, loving but always looking elsewhere. Quentin was the rock in her life. I was the rock in my wife’s life.’
‘What happened, if you don’t mind me asking?’
‘My wife was at home with Amelia, and as she started to grow up, wanting to exercise her independence, my wife started to stray.’
‘Stray?’
‘Other men. And in time she met a younger man. One day I come home, and she’s gone.’
‘Where is she now?’
‘You know the answer. Why are you asking?’
‘It’s your story.’
‘She died overseas in an accident. I went out there with Amelia and brought the body back. We buried her in the local churchyard. It was sad at the time, but we move on. Amelia, unfortunately, was tarred with the same brush. Eventually, her life would have followed the same route: the wrong men, the wrong decisions, the inevitable regrets.’
‘Quentin concerns me,’ Happold said. ‘Was he seeing Amelia?’
‘I don’t know. I had not seen Amelia for some time before she died, maybe six to eight weeks.’
‘Any reason?’
‘Her behaviour was becoming more irrational, and she was messing around with the criminal class.’
‘The gangs?’
‘Some of them. I only knew about it. I never saw any of them.’
‘Who do you believe murdered your daughter?’ Happold asked.
‘You know the answer.’
‘Gwen?’
‘Not her personally, but she’s a strong woman, a woman who doesn’t like to lose.’
‘That’s what I worry about,’ Happold said.
‘Have you spoken to her about it?’
‘No. She would only deny it.’
‘And Quentin?’
‘He has disappointed me.’
‘Competent to take over the bank?’
‘Competent to run it. Gwen will always be the controlling partner. Men such as Quentin can never be trusted totally.’
‘Why are we here?’ Brice asked.
‘I need to protect Gwen and Quentin.’
‘Then why ask me? I only want the murderer of my daughter to be found.’
‘What do you have hidden? What dark secrets are there that could be revealed?’
‘Are you accusing me of having my own daughter murdered?’ Brice replied. He was indignant and insulted.
‘Let’s be honest, Brice. You’re a man who has risen to the top by treading on other people’s toes, committing the occasional misdemeanour, even turning a blind eye when it was necessary.’
‘Both of us are equally guilty of some things we are not proud of.’
‘Not me,’ Happold said. ‘There is nothing that I have done or would do that would cause me any sleepless nights.’
‘Including murder?’
‘If it was for my family.’
‘Did you kill Amelia because she had something on Gwen, or because she was involved with Quentin?’
‘Not Amelia. I am only giving you a generalisation as to the extent men like ourselves will go to achieve our aims.’
‘That would also extend to Gwen and Quentin.’
‘Precisely. I will do whatever is necessary to protect my daughter and her life,’ Happold said.
‘You’d protect her and Quentin even if they were guilty of murder?’
‘I would prefer them not to be involved, but if they are, believe me, I will do what I must.’
‘That sounds like a threat.’
‘It’s not a threat; just a notification of intent.’
‘Then let me tell you. If either of those two killed my daughter, I'd pursue them through the police, and if they fail to act, then I will deal with it myself.’
‘That sounds like a threat to me,’ Happold said. ‘I believe we have made our positions clear. Let us hope that my daughter and her husband are innocent.’
‘And if they are not?’
‘I will do whatever is necessary.’
‘Including having me killed?’
‘I have made my position clear,’ Happold said.
‘Crystal clear,’ Brice replied.
***
Negril Bob’s return to the area was not welcomed by some people, least of all the team in Challis Street Homicide. As expected, once his two incarcerated gang members had heard that the only witness to the murder of Rasta Joe had died, they had changed their tune and denied their involvement, and with the poor quality finger and shoe, the case against them was unsustainable. As for the knife wounds, no knife had been found.
A brash individual, Negril Bob’s first act had been to march into the Westbourne pub to announce that he was back.
Larry Hill was out in the area testing the mood on the return of the violent gang leader. Not only was there a general level of fear, but there was also the need for revenge. Rasta Joe had had a gang, and with them, it was tit for tat, kill one of ours, we’ll kill one of yours.
Isaac could see the odds increasing in favour of the gang war that had not yet eventuated. Society would not miss any that would die, but if it was intense, then the chance of it spilling into the general populace was possible.
‘Another stuff-up,’ Caddick said when he had hauled Isaac up to his office. ‘What is it with you and your department? Can’t you get anything right?’
Isaac wanted to say that he had solved more murders than his superior, his track record was unblemished, and to just back off and leave him to it. But he did not. He had the measure of Caddick, a man who rode his staff hard but did not remove them until just before the case came to a conclusion, so he could take all the credit.
‘It’s a setback,’ Isaac said.
‘It’s a stuff-up. Goddard may have gone easy on you. I’ve no intention of doing so. I’ll need regular updates, a list of the day's activities, and a reason why if any were not completed, and those that you did, what was achieved.’
Isaac had heard it all before, straight out of the mouth of Commissioner Davies. Caddick
