Left You Dead

99

There was now a fourth whiteboard behind Roy Grace in the conference room. It was labelled Rebecca Watkins. Two photographs of her taken through long lenses, and another of her and Niall Paternoster walking on the street, captured by the Surveillance Team, were stuck to it. Below them was a partially filled-in association chart, showing her known network of family and other contacts.

It was 5 p.m. Grace looked up from his notes at the crowded table. ‘This is the twelfth briefing of Operation Lagoon, and we have some significant developments. The first is that, unfortunately, our Surveillance Team has again been temporarily redeployed, but they’re leaving the tracker in place beneath Niall Paternoster’s rental Fiesta.’ He turned to Alexander. ‘Jack, I’m giving you the action of arranging the monitoring of all movements of his vehicle until we get the Surveillance Team back.’

‘I’m on it, sir, and I’m sharing with all the team.’ Addressing them, Alexander said, ‘You’ll each be able to track any movements on your computer and phone screens.’

DC Boutwood raised her hand. ‘Yes, EJ?’ Grace said.

‘Sir, why have they been redeployed at such a critical point?’

‘I’m sure ACC Pewe would be happy to explain, EJ.’ He shrugged. ‘Resources — I’m afraid it is what it is, and we have to get on with it.’

‘Understood, sir.’

‘I’m glad you understand, EJ,’ Norman Potting grumbled. He turned to Grace. ‘Resources — is that shorthand for being dumped on from a great height, chief?’

‘I couldn’t possibly comment, Norman,’ Grace replied with a thin smile. ‘I’ll leave you to form your own conclusions, but we do get the team back later in the week.’

Potting shook his head, making a tutting sound. Ignoring him, Grace continued. ‘I’ve called this briefing earlier than usual because I particularly wanted to have Sharon Orman here this afternoon before we lose her valuable skills. Orman, as some of you know, has developed a formidable lip-reading ability. Around 1 p.m. today she followed Niall Paternoster and Rebecca Watkins into a pub in Croydon, where she was able to observe them from a safe distance and pick up most of their conversation.’ He turned towards her. ‘Sharon, could you tell us what you saw after you entered the Green Dragon pub?’

‘Yes, sir,’ she said, then read from her notebook, ‘Niall Paternoster was in a corner booth with Rebecca Watkins. They were sitting intimately close, eating lunch. He raised his glass of beer and clinked her wine glass and said, “To the future!” Rebecca corrected him, “To our future”. Niall then repeated the toast. “To our future”.’

She glanced at her notebook. ‘Next, Rebecca asked, “How’s your week looking?” Niall replied, “Pretty dull — so long as I’m not rearrested for my beloved wife’s non-murder. Otherwise I’m free all week. Do you have something in mind?”

‘Rebecca Watkins was acting in a very provocative manner, arousing him discreetly with one hand. She then told him she had her firm’s annual sales conference in Eastbourne this coming week and that her husband would not be attending because he was away. She said she had to make a presentation on Thursday afternoon, then put in an appearance at dinner, but suggested they have a rendezvous afterwards. Subject suggested her hotel room, but Watkins dismissed that, saying she would have too many work people around. She suggested she would find somewhere and text him — she didn’t say what time precisely but suggested it would be around midnight. She said she could put the seats in her Range Rover flat and suggested Niall bring along some Prosecco and two glasses.’

Potting grinned. ‘A cosy little mobile love nest!’

‘Speaks a man from experience,’ Velvet Wilde retorted.

‘Nice work, Sharon,’ Grace said. ‘Right, today’s information — and revelations — about Rebecca Watkins are a significant development for our investigation. Let’s review where we’re at. Niall Paternoster reports his wife missing after allegedly dropping her off at Tesco Holmbush on Sunday September the first. We subsequently became suspicious of his story and he was arrested. The search of the Paternosters’ home provides strong evidence he may have murdered his wife.’

He glanced down at his notes. ‘Digital examination adds weight to this from analysis of his phone and computer, showing he appears to have lied about his and Eden’s whereabouts on that Sunday. Further, from tracking his movements on his phone and on his car’s computer, we find a shallow grave in Ashdown Forest, as well as the potential murder weapon. Niall’s movements indicated he may have deposited some body parts in that grave and others off the end of the east mole of Shoreham harbour. Under questioning following his arrest, Paternoster denies everything vigorously. We release him, having insufficient evidence to charge him at this stage, but put him under surveillance while we continue our investigation.’

He took a sip of water. ‘The Surveillance Team follow him to a rendezvous with Rebecca Watkins at the Devil’s Dyke parking area. They appear to be lovers. This is the same destination that, according to digital comparison, Niall visited on Sunday September the first, just two hours after — according to his story — his wife had gone missing. I suspect that we will be able to tally the phone records with the check on Watkins’s Range Rover Evoque’s computer that she was there at the same time as she alluded to in interview.’

‘Is it your intention to check the Range Rover now, sir?’ DC Wilde asked.

‘Not at the moment, no, Velvet. I think she’s more useful to us if she doesn’t know she’s a primary suspect.’ He looked up. ‘Anyone disagree with me so far?’

No one did.

‘So up until now we’ve had a clear motive for murder. Niall Paternoster has a girlfriend. Murder his wife to get her out of the way and clear the way forward for his relationship with Rebecca Watkins, who may herself be in a terminal marriage.’ He looked up at his team again. ‘So far so good?’

There were several nods.

‘Then this morning, following the discovery of a letter concealed in a desk used by Eden Paternoster, DI Branson and I visited the solicitor to whom it referred, Jill Riddle, Head of Wills and Probate at the law firm of Cardwell Scott.’

‘That lot!’ Potting exclaimed. ‘They had a toxic little runt of a Legal Aid solicitor called Donnelly — Paul Donnelly. I had a couple of run-ins with him. Then he got struck off after being found to be negligent.’

‘I didn’t know that, but good,’ Grace replied. ‘Jill Riddle confirmed she had drafted a new will, in which, basically, Eden Paternoster leaves almost her entire estate to Rebecca Watkins.’ He paused to let that sink in.

The effect on his team was seismic.

Emily Denyer raised a hand. ‘Boss, I’ve been looking into the overseas company into which Eden Paternoster transferred ownership of her Nevill Road house, along with most of her cash — Cormorant International Holdings. It’s an offshore company providing overseas tax shelters, with links to Cardwell Scott.’

Grace frowned. ‘Would you say, Emily, it might be more than a little coincidental that Eden Paternoster’s will was drafted by the same firm that helped put her assets potentially out of her husband’s reach?’

Denyer gave a wry smile. ‘It just might be, boss.’

‘So,’ Grace said, to the whole team. ‘Who is playing off who here? Eden Paternoster has moved the majority of her assets into a jurisdiction that is traditionally uncooperative with British police and tax authorities — assuming that is still the case, Emily?’

‘It is. Not just the UK but pretty much the entire world, sir.’

Grace was silent for some moments, then he said, ‘Emily, from your experience, is it possible that Rebecca Watkins might be able to access these overseas assets without any form of countersignature from Eden Paternoster?’

‘It would entirely depend what instructions Eden Paternoster has given, which we’re not privy to. But yes, in principle, very possible.’

‘Right,’ Grace said. ‘To hypothesize for a moment, could we have a scenario here in which Eden moves her assets overseas in the belief she and Rebecca Watkins have a future together, and in the hope that she has framed her husband sufficiently to get him convicted of her murder? A very clever ploy? Or is it Rebecca Watkins who is the clever one, in cahoots with Niall Paternoster, playing the long game?’

‘By the term “long game”, boss,’ Denyer said, ‘are you suggesting Rebecca Watkins has conned her lover, Eden, into moving her assets overseas and giving her access to them, with Eden believing she is secure in her relationship with Rebecca?’

‘I am, Emily, yes.’

‘But,’ Denyer said, ‘Eden doesn’t realize she’s been tricked — conned — and the woman she thinks is her future life partner, Rebecca Watkins, is about to run for the hills with her husband and scoop up all her assets?’

‘That’s what it increasingly looks like, to me,’ Grace said.

Glenn Branson, who had been silent for the entire meeting until now, spoke. ‘How much of any of this do you think Niall Paternoster was aware of, boss? I mean, if he and Rebecca were — are — an item, and he knew Rebecca had access to all Eden’s assets, why did he need to kill Eden? Couldn’t he and Rebecca simply have taken off, grabbed all the offshore money and had enough to start a new life somewhere else?’

‘Because she would track them down,’ Grace retorted. ‘If they ever wanted to live somewhere that recognizes international law, they’d never have been free of the threat of arrest.’

Branson nodded.

‘But,’ Grace continued, ‘are we making a dangerous assumption here?’

He had everyone’s attention.

‘Rebecca Watkins is an interesting character. Let’s look at the possibility she has another agenda altogether. What if she and Eden Paternoster have agreed — conspired — that Rebecca is going to seduce Niall and become his lover? Eden is going to fake her disappearance, leaving a trail of evidence that frames her husband for her murder. She needs to appear dead for her plan to work, to be free of him and free of the risk of arrest when she and Rebecca attempt to start a new life together. But she realizes her plan hasn’t worked out quite as well as she’d hoped. The police don’t have the evidence they need to charge him with murder. So she panics, perhaps?’

‘Knowing the threats Niall made to kill her, boss, that she might have seen on his phone?’ Branson suggested.

Grace paused to clear his throat. ‘Indeed. Perhaps she’s desperate now, and maybe not thinking clearly — as we know, that happens when people panic and they do irrational things.’

‘Such as what? What are you thinking?’

‘I don’t know, I’m beyond second-guessing anything on this case. We need to be prepared for anything, which means we are going to need all our resources.’ Grace thought for some moments, looking at his phone, then said, ‘We need to be truly prepared for Thursday night, to see just what is going on. From what Sharon has helpfully told us of the conversation between Niall Paternoster and Rebecca Watkins in the pub, they’re expecting to find a quiet spot.’ He looked around at his team. ‘Everyone agree?’

Everyone did.

‘Are you making this a full-blown operation, boss?’ Branson asked. ‘Gold, Silver and Bronze?’

Grace shook his head. ‘I’ve thought about it, but I want to make it very low key. The Surveillance Team will be behind them, and you and I, Glenn, will be out with them, tucked away but ready to move fast if anything develops.’

Grace looked at his phone again, tapping it for some moments. ‘The forecast is mainly clear.’ With a twinge of guilt, he asked, ‘Anyone got plans for Thursday night they can’t move? Defrosting the fridge or something?’

There were a few grins. Potting raised an arm. ‘I’ve got a date, chief.’

‘The future Mrs Potting?’

He shook his head. ‘Nah, just meeting some old pals. I can — you know — reschedule.’

‘Your altruism touches all our hearts, Norman,’ Glenn Branson said.