Wheel of Fire

Twelve

Bella drove slowly along the driveway towards the ruins of the big old house, trying to put her memories back in their box. Bella Fairbrother was not one to dwell upon the past, or indeed upon anything she could do nothing about. Today was somehow different. She hadn’t expected to feel the way she did.

A uniformed constable on scene-guard stopped her from driving right up to the house, instructing her to park at the road end of the drive along with several other vehicles. Blackdown Manor was a crime scene, and it looked as if it might remain so for some time, Bella thought.

She was told she could walk a little closer towards the burned-down remains of her childhood home, but must not cross the cordon of blue and white tape stretching around the remains of the house. Just as she was approaching, two fire officers emerged from the ruins of Blackdown Manor carrying between them on a stretcher what appeared to be a body bag containing human remains. They were followed by another two officers also carrying a stretcher and a body bag.

There was something quite chilling about witnessing this scene, about seeing dead people being carried about in, what were more or less, sacks. Particularly in view of the identity of those people. DI Vogel had told Bella that it was more or less certain that the two victims of the fire could only be Sir John Fairbrother and his nurse, but that it was possible they may never be formally identified.

The body bags did not look very substantially filled either. Bella remembered from the shocking reports of the Grenfell Tower disaster that in the event of a truly major fire sometimes virtually no remains at all are found of the deceased.

None of this did anything to lessen the shock of what she found herself witnessing.

Bella was tough as old boots. All the same, she felt her knees wobble. She was standing next to a Crime Scenes Investigators’ van. She leaned against it for support, and fleetingly closed her eyes to shut out the spectacle unfolding before her. Therefore, she heard the voice before seeing the woman walking towards her.

‘Are you OK?’

Bella opened her eyes. A tall woman, probably in her late fifties, wearing the obligatory white plastic Tyvek suit in order to protect the integrity of the crime scene, was regarding her with some anxiety.

‘Uh yes,’ Bella answered automatically.

Her eyes travelled to the far side of the gravelled area where it seemed the two bodies were now about to be loaded into an unmarked transit van by two men also wearing Tyvek suits.

‘Wasn’t expecting to see any of this, I suppose,’ said Bella. ‘Given me a bit of a turn.’ She moved away from the CSI vehicle and drew herself up to her full five feet, five-and-a-half inches, ‘I’m fine now,’ she said.

The other woman pulled back the hood of her suit, revealing an abundance of curly reddish hair not unattractively streaked with grey.

‘May I ask who you are, and what you are doing here?’ she said, her courteous and concerned approach belying the directness of her words.

Bella introduced herself. ‘I just wanted to see the place for myself,’ she explained. ‘I grew up here, you see. And the whole thing has been, well... It’s too terrible to take in. I guess we all have to get used to death, particularly as we get older, but this...’

Bella waved an arm at the burned-out house, taking in the anonymous van with its tinted windows into which the two victims were now being unceremoniously loaded.

‘It’s all so violent, so horrible.’ She lowered her voice to a slightly distracted whisper. ‘I never expected this,’ she said again.

‘Who would?’ responded the woman gently. ‘It’s a terrible way to die, and almost as terrible for those left behind. I’m Karen Crow. Home Office Pathologist. I’m sorry about what you’ve witnessed, Miss Fairbrother.’

Bella was still staring at the transit van. The men who had loaded the remains of the two dead were now shutting and locking the rear doors.

‘It looks, so, so anonymous,’ murmured Bella. ‘So undignified.’

‘I do understand how you feel,’ said Karen Crow. ‘In cases of death by fire in particular it is very difficult to maintain dignity, at this stage anyway. Those men are employed by the coroner’s office to collect dead bodies in situations like this, and anywhere foul play might be suspected. They will be taken to the nearest police mortuary where I and my colleagues will conduct as much of a post-mortem as possible, which in cases of a fire is often not terribly constructive. And I promise you, Miss Fairbrother, we will show your father and the other deceased person as much respect throughout as we possibly can.’

Bella turned her head slightly to look directly at Karen Crow for the first time. The pathologist had very clear, pale-blue eyes. Bella doubted neither her honesty nor her compassion.

‘Thank you,’ she said.

The van containing the remains of the dead was about to pass the spot where the two women were standing. Bella watched its back end proceeding up the drive to the road beyond.

‘I don’t know what I expected, but I didn’t think it would be like this, or that I would feel how I do,’ she said. ‘I really didn’t.’

‘I can understand that,’ replied the pathologist. ‘Nobody ever does. It’s my job to deal with death, particularly violent death. I’ve been doing this job for a lot of years, and you can imagine what I have seen, so much that I wish I hadn’t seen. I still don’t think there’s anything worse than fire. I am so sorry for your loss.’

‘Thank you,’ said Bella again.

She was surprised at how much she appreciated, not just the human contact, but also the comfort the other woman was clearly trying to offer.

She made a conscious effort again to pull herself together, and reminded herself that the purpose of her visit was not just what she had told Karen Crow. She had reasons beyond merely surveying the scene of the crime and indulging in nostalgic reflection concerning her family and the splendid house which had been the family home for centuries. Until two nights previously.

‘There are some papers, private papers, important for the business, I was wondering when I might be allowed access,’ she said. ‘Can you help?’

Karen Crow looked mildly surprised. ‘I’m not sure I am the right person to ask,’ she said.

Bella realised that her switch from stunned grief to business-like practical must have seemed excessively quick.

‘I just thought, well, whilst I was here...’ she began, in a lame attempt at explanation.

‘But, in there?’ Dr Crow queried, turning to look again at the crumbling ruins which were all that remained of Blackdown Manor. ‘Papers? I’m no expert on that sort of thing, but I don’t see how anything like that could have survived the fire which consumed this place.’

‘Blackdown has, or rather it had, a huge cellar,’ Bella began to explain. ‘My father, many years ago, further excavated it and installed an underground indoor swimming pool complex. He turned the other part of the cellar into a specialised storage room. Blackdown held many irreplaceable treasures, and whilst I am sure almost all will have been tragically lost, there is just a chance there could be some pieces, perhaps paintings, in that storeroom which may be retrievable. Also, the papers I mentioned. You know about the family bank, I’m sure, Miss Crow. Well, can you imagine the records that have been accumulated over the years? Much has no bearing at all on the modern Fairbrother’s, but it almost all has tremendous historical value, and then there are the papers which we do really need. I am trying to help the board continue to run the bank in the manner that my father would have done were he still alive.’

‘And you really think this storage room could have survived?’

‘I’m hoping so,’ replied Bella Fairbrother. ‘It was lead lined, and all the storage containers were made of protective materials. The idea was that the room and its precious contents would be protected against any eventuality, including, and perhaps particularly fire. My father also said that it would survive a nuclear attack.’

Bella laughed briefly, an almost involuntary half-strangled little sound. She had no idea why. There wasn’t anything very funny about the prospect of a nuclear attack, nor the grim reality of the terrible scene which lay before her.

‘Well, you’ll need to speak to CSI and the fire investigators about that,’ said Karen Crow. ‘But whatever they tell you and whatever the condition of the papers in that storeroom, you can only be given permission for access by the police investigation team. The place is a crime scene and I personally have no idea how long it is likely to remain so...’ She stopped abruptly. ‘There’s John Michaels, he’s the head honcho fire investigator.’

Karen waved to attract the man’s attention, then made a beckoning motion with her fingers. Obediently Michaels approached. The pathologist made the necessary introductions, and Bella explained about the storeroom and her desire to gain access to its contents.

‘Ah yes, I think we’ve found the storeroom, or what’s left of it,’ he said. ‘But in spite of its construction there is substantial damage. After all, the entire underground area, the pool complex and the storeroom had thousands of tons of burning rubble collapse onto it and then the fire boys blasted it with thousands of gallons of water. The pool area is completely destroyed, the roof caved in, you wouldn’t even know there’d ever been a pool there if you hadn’t been told. As for the storeroom, I assume you know it was lead lined and bolstered by heavy duty steel beams...?’

Bells nodded quickly in agreement.

‘Well, because of its construction it has not been completely destroyed,’ Michaels continued. ‘But the roof has partially caved in, pretty inevitable under these circumstances, and there must be considerable water damage inside, so if it’s paperwork you’re looking for, well, I wouldn’t be too optimistic—’

‘My father said his storeroom would withstand a nuclear attack,’ interrupted Bella, repeating what she had just told Karen Crow. ‘All my father’s papers, both personal, and the bank records which I am particularly interested in, were stored within that room. He had moved almost everything here, where he was convinced it would be safe in almost any eventuality.’

‘Well, we shall have to see,’ said John Michaels.

‘But it looks like he got it wrong,’ Bella continued in little more than a mutter.

John Michaels raised his eyebrows.

‘Look,’ he said. ‘Now I know of the importance of that area I’ll see if we can’t achieve access as soon as possible. But I am a little puzzled, Miss Fairbrother. I mean, I would have expected in the modern world that certainly the business records you have referred to would be stored on computer, and backed up in the usual way. Is that not the case?’

Bella shook her head.

‘My father was an old-fashioned man, Mr Michaels,’ she replied, by way of explanation. It sounded pretty lame, even to her own ears. ‘He always did things his way, and he didn’t entirely trust computers.’

Nor anyone he worked with, including his daughter and his entire board of directors, she thought to herself. She said no more.

John Michaels still looked puzzled. As well, he might, Bella reckoned.

‘I see,’ he said eventually. ‘Of course, you certainly wouldn’t be allowed on the premises at the moment. There’s a major safety risk, obviously. Even if we find that any of the contents of the basement storage room have remained substantially intact, there is no possibility of you being allowed to enter it until its construction has been fully assessed. With fire parts of a damaged premises may appear to have remained undamaged, but the reality is they could collapse at any moment. Also, you do know, don’t you, we still have a crime scene here, and may well do for two or three more days, I’d say.’

‘So I understand,’ said Bella, glancing at Karen Crow. ‘And even after you guys may have declared the area safe, it’s the police who have to give permission for me or anyone else to go inside. Is that right?’

‘It is,’ said John Michaels.

‘Or to have anything that remains inside removed, I assume?’ queried Bella.

‘Indeed,’ said Michaels.

‘So, who specifically do I need to contact?’ asked Bella.

‘DI David Vogel,’ replied the chief fire investigatory officer. ‘He’s in charge.’

‘Ah,’ said Bella Fairbrother.

It seemed that she was going to need Vogel on her side before she could do anything. She was not overly optimistic, but she reckoned she may as well contact the DI again as soon as possible.

At that moment her phone rang.

‘Miss Fairbrother, I think I’m going to need another word with you,’ said Vogel.

‘Yes, of course, Mr Vogel,’ replied Bella. ‘I was just thinking the same about you.’

Were you indeed, thought Vogel, reflecting again that this young woman was going to be a force to be reckoned with.

‘Might I ask where you are at the moment, Miss Fairbrother?’ asked Vogel.

‘I’m just leaving Blackdown Manor. I came out to have a look for myself. It...’ The young woman paused.

Vogel waited.

‘It was more of a shock than I expected. I mean there is virtually nothing left... and they were bringing out bodies, well, remains...’

Vogel couldn’t be sure, but he thought there was a catch in Bella Fairbrother’s throat. That was a turn up for the books.

‘It must be very upsetting for you, Miss Fairbrother, I’m sure,’ he said levelly.

‘It is yes, quite upsetting.’

Vogel thought Bella sounded rather taken aback by her own reaction. He pressed on.

‘Miss Fairbrother, I wondered if I could ask you to come to the incident room we’ve set up at Wellington police station?’ he asked. ‘There is somewhere here we can talk privately. And we do need to take a statement from you.’

There was another brief pause.

‘All right, Mr Vogel,’ said Bella. ‘I’ll leave straight away.’

‘Thank you very much,’ said Vogel. ‘That would be most helpful.’

He meant it too. Although the privacy he had promised Bella Fairbrother comprised only the rather austere station interview room.

Wellington police station, an unprepossessing concrete building dating back to the 1950s, was now the on-the-spot headquarters of the investigation, and thirty or so of the fifty officers promised by Hemmings, under the MCIT umbrella, were now working out of the station. They were never all there at the same time, of course, but there was still not a lot of room. And the station’s regular staff, three uniformed constables and five police community service officers, were not impressed at being effectively squeezed out of their usual work space. Half the time there wasn’t room for them to park their cars in the station’s small car park, or even in the road outside.

Photographs and charts continued to be collated and arranged on every available wall, but the main work was undertaken by the officers working on their own laptops, linked to the Police National Computer. It was a full-time job for the officer in charge to keep up with it all. And much as Vogel was a hands-on copper who liked to get out and about far more than most of his rank, it was indeed a great help that Bella Fairbrother was coming to him that morning and he did not have to go to her.

He was studying the various reports and interviews recorded by other members of the team when Karen Crow called.

‘I know it’s only a formality, but I thought you might like to know that we have now officially identified Sir John Fairbrother through his dental records,’ the pathologist told him. ‘We’re just waiting now for the nurse’s dental records to come through from the Philippines, and then, from our point of view, the case will be closed. The condition of the bodies is such that there really is nothing more we can do.’

Vogel thanked her and returned his attention to his laptop. It was a shame, but everything Karen Crow had said was only what he had already assumed. There was no way pathology could be expected to offer any further help to the investigation from the examination of the victims of such a catastrophic fire.

Bella Fairbrother was as good as her word. She pulled her little Mercedes to a halt in the road outside less than forty minutes after she and Vogel had spoken on the phone.

Vogel happened to glance out of a convenient window just as she arrived. He watched her climb out of the car and walk briskly towards the station door. She still had the confident swagger about her which he’d noticed when he first met her at the Mount Somerset. In Vogel’s experience that was almost inevitable in those who enjoyed both considerable wealth and extensive power.

The front office was not manned that day. Vogel walked swiftly through and opened the station door for her. She looked mildly surprised. Vogel liked surprising people.

He ushered her straight into the interview room, gesturing for her to sit down to the side of the desk which was the main piece of furniture. There was recording equipment in the little room, but Vogel would not be using it as this wasn’t a formal interview. Vogel sat down opposite her. They were quickly joined by Dawn Saslow, who took the third chair.

Vogel politely thanked Bella for coming.

‘I really need to go over a few things with you, and then Dawn will take that statement,’ he began.

Bella nodded her assent.

‘There have been some developments which you may or may not know about,’ Vogel continued. ‘Are you aware that George Grey, your father’s employee who was injured on the night of the fire, has walked out of the Musgrove hospital where he was being treated and that we have so far been unable to locate him?’

‘Yes, I do know about that,’ assented Bella. ‘I saw it on the regional news last night. He was described as someone the police believe could help them with their enquiries. I took it to mean you thought he might have started the fire, or at least been involved in some way. Is that so, DI Vogel?’

‘It is far too early to make any such assumption, Miss Fairbrother,’ replied Vogel. ‘We are still investigating and accumulating evidence. But we certainly regard George Grey as a person of interest, and we need to find him and talk to him as a matter of some urgency. I wondered what you could tell me about Mr Grey and his wife?’

‘Me?’ queried Bella, sounding surprised. ‘Why would I know anything about them? I’ve never even met the Greys.’

‘Never?’ queried Vogel.

‘Never. I told you, DI Vogel, I’ve been estranged from my father for over a year. And whilst I have encountered him once or twice in the City, which would be almost inevitable, I haven’t been back to Blackdown during that time. I doubt he’d have let me through the door if I had turned up here. And, actually, it was some months before that when I was last here. The Kivels were still employed then, still living in The Gatehouse. Everything seemed normal and appeared to be how it had always been. I had no idea that my father was planning to get rid of them after all those years and move in the Greys. If indeed he was planning it. It could have been some spur of the moment thing. It was just like my father to make some sort of snap decision for reasons which he would probably not disclose to anyone. He wasn’t a man who thought he had to give reasons for anything he did. He always did exactly what he wanted, and hang the rest of the world.’

Vogel found himself blinking away behind his spectacles. Bella Fairbrother’s apparent display of emotion over the phone earlier had clearly been temporary. Her attitude to her father had definitely not softened.

‘So, you had no idea why he sacked the Kivels?’ he continued doggedly.

‘No idea at all.’

‘People locally seem to think the sacking was in some way connected with his illness,’ said Vogel. ‘Do you think that might be the case?’

‘Like I told you, I really wouldn’t know. You may find this hard to believe, but I didn’t even know he was ill until after the board had been told. They naturally assumed I knew, of course. My father eventually got his solicitor to tell me. His solicitor! Even harder to believe, don’t you think?’

‘Did you not then try to get in touch with him directly?’

‘Yes. I phoned several times. Each time I got his message service, and he never called back.’

‘Did you ever consider just coming to see him?’

‘Mr Vogel, I didn’t even know for sure where my father was. And in any case, he had made it quite clear he wanted nothing more to do with me. I wasn’t going to beg.’

Vogel certainly believed that last remark. He could not imagine Bella Fairbrother begging anyone for anything.

‘Were you told what your father was suffering from, and just how ill he was?’ Vogel asked.

‘Oh yes,’ replied Bella. ‘I was also told that my father was hoping to live for at least a year or two more, and that the drugs he was taking were making it possible for him to continue to function in business. But that he wanted me to know that he had made every provision for the continuation of the bank, and a private provision for me from his personal fortune.’

‘What did you make of that?’

‘What I made of that, Mr Vogel, was that my father had decided to cut me out of the bank and do his best to make sure I had nothing more to do with it. A private provision from his personal fortune, indeed. I have never wanted his damned money, detective inspector. Nor have I ever needed it. I have demonstrated again and again that I can succeed at the highest level in the world of commerce, without him or anyone else propping me up.’

Vogel stared at her in silence for a few seconds. This was a formidable woman, all right. Even when she was sitting down Bella Fairbrother sat up so straight that she looked tall. Everyone understood about walking tall. Bella Fairbrother, although of average height, sat tall. And she had a way of making everyone around her feel rather on the small side. Even Vogel, who was comfortably over six foot.

‘I take it from this that your father made a new will, perhaps quite recently, is that so?’

Bella Fairbrother shrugged her shoulders. ‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘But it wouldn’t have occurred to me that he hadn’t left an up-to-date will clearly representing his wishes. My father would never have put himself in a position where he died intestate. Not with the bank at stake. Not to mention his personal wealth. My father lived and breathed money, DI Vogel. It was his every reason for being. And everything he did in his life was motivated either by financial gain or to protect the interests of Fairbrother’s bank, which, when you think about it, amount to one and the same thing. Even to marrying, when he was a very young man, a woman who came from the right sort of breeding stock to produce the right sort of children to take control of the bank when the time came. Unfortunately for my father that didn’t go quite according to plan. His second child was a girl, me, therefore, however clever and able I proved myself to be, I would never be good enough because I was the wrong gender. And he had yet to learn that his only son was a wastrel quite incapable of running any sort of business, when his eye was taken by a woman little better than a common whore, albeit doubtless excellent at her job, and he ditched my mother without a backward glance.’

Vogel was having a blinking fit again. He was never comfortable with overt talk of sexual matters, particularly when a woman was doing the talking. He glanced away, hoping Bella Fairbrother would not notice his discomfiture. He was almost sure she didn’t. She was frowning slightly as she continued her reverie. Her body language indicated that she was wound up like a spring. Vogel had learned to be cautious to the point of cynicism concerning anyone involved, however remotely, in a murder investigation. But he would have bet six month’s salary that this part, at least, of what Bella was saying was the truth. And that telling the story caused her genuine pain.

‘My mother’s father was a stockbroker and she had a degree in economics which she never used because my father would not countenance even the possibility of allowing his wife to work,’ Bella continued. ‘Her position on the board was merely token, as such appointments have always had been with all the Fairbrother women. Until me. I was never prepared to be merely the token Fairbrother woman on the board, and that is primarily what caused the rift between my father and me. That, and my tendency to question his leadership. Now I have reason to believe that the board might turn to me to take, at the very least, shall we say, a prominent position again at Fairbrothers. It’s already been indicated that most of them feel they need me back on the board because I know more than anyone else about my father’s affairs and his way of running things.’

Bella stopped talking at last. Vogel, thankfully had stopped blinking.

‘So what made you drive straight down here, Miss Fairbrother? I mean, you knew that your father was dead and that there were probably going to be serious repercussions concerning the future of the bank, something that is clearly very dear to your heart. Also, presumably, with so much at stake, you need to see his will as soon as possible. Wouldn’t it have been more constructive for you to stay on in London?’

‘Look, Mr Vogel, I spoke yesterday to Peter Prentis, the solicitor who has handled my father’s affairs for years and who informed me of my father’s illness. He told me that he was no longer in possession of the will my father had drawn up with him about a year previously, soon after we became estranged. At around the same time my father arranged to have almost all of the business and personal files, until then mostly archived with Peter Prentis, removed and transported to Somerset.

‘It also seems that my father then appointed a solicitor here in Somerset, in Taunton, with whom he conducted a lot of private business. Peter Prentis told me he’d had very little contact with my father in the year or so preceding his death, and that the last time had been the telephone conversation in which he had told Prentis of his illness, and asked him to pass on the information to me. Clearly, I needed to see this Taunton solicitor, Mr Vogel, as a matter of urgency, to find out what I can of my father’s dealings with him. And I have an appointment this afternoon. Also, I have to find those files. Some may be lodged with this solicitor, of course, but I believe that the majority of my father’s papers, including those removed from Peter Prentis’ office, may be in a specially strengthened storeroom which my father constructed in the basement of Blackdown Manor. I am also hoping, although it may be just a vain hope, that some of the valuable family paintings, and perhaps some other pieces, may be there and have survived the fire. And that’s why I wanted to see you every bit as much as you wanted to see me, Mr Vogel. I really need to be allowed access to the manor very soon, to gain entry to what’s left of the storeroom, see the damage for myself, and evaluate what may be salvaged. I understand only you can give permission?’

‘Me and the fire service,’ said Vogel. ‘We will do our best to assist, but safety is the first priority, and preserving the authenticity of the crime scene a close second.’

‘I see.’

Bella Fairbrother looked as if she were about to argue, but didn’t. This is a woman used to getting her own way, thought Vogel

‘Is it really that urgent, Miss Fairbrother?’ asked Vogel.

‘Almost certainly, detective inspector,’ responded Bella Fairbrother. ‘Almost certainly.’

Vogel left Saslow to take the necessary formal statement from Bella. But when he heard her leaving the police station he made his way to an appropriately positioned window to watch. She had managed to find a parking space almost directly outside, and she drove away with a squeal of wheels, accelerating quickly along Victoria Street. She was clearly one of those who did not really consider that speed limits applied to her. Even right outside a police station. And probably not many other limits, either.

Vogel was thoughtful. He took what he considered to be a healthily cynical attitude to anything involving big business and big money. Miss Bella Fairbrother did not seem unduly concerned about preserving her father’s reputation. But he suspected that her mission to save Fairbrother International might also involve a considerable intent to save her own skin. After all, she had been deputy chairman of Fairbrother’s until little more than a year ago. Sir John Fairbrother may have been a maverick, but Bella herself had admitted that she’d worked more closely with him than anyone else.

Vogel suspected that Sir John’s death, and the fire which had brought it about, along with the destruction of Blackdown Manor, were all attributable to an intrigue reaching deep into the darker extremes of international finance. And it was surely impossible to believe that his daughter had not been complicit to some degree.