#YouToo Page 12

  Kate quickly nabbed the last chip, just in case Jo was thinking of having it.

  ‘Have they got someone in to sort things out?’ she asked, with her mouth full.

  ‘Yes, and how I wish he was going to stay. A real breath of fresh air.’

  ‘Oh yes?’ Kate was suddenly interested.

  ‘Not like that!’ Jo hesitated. ‘Oh, all right then, yes, a little bit like that, but also because he seems good at his job.’

  ‘Come along, come along, tell me more.’

  ‘He’s about 39, good-looking and very particular about his coffee.’ Jo thought for a moment. ‘And he has these lovely laughter lines by his eyes.’

  ‘About 39? No one says about and then a precise number like that unless they’ve looked up his age on the register and know exactly how old he is but don’t want to come across as too keen.’

  ‘Busted,’ Jo admitted with a smile. Her friend knew her too well. ‘Ooh er, sounds like your smitten. What’s his name?’

  ‘Billy. Billy Iqbal.’

  Kate raised her eyebrows. ‘Crucial question, is he married?’

  ‘Don’t know. No ring, but that isn’t necessarily definitive and it doesn’t matter anyway; I have taken a solemn oath not to date anyone I work with.’

  That silenced Kate for a moment.

  ‘You don’t work directly with him.’ ‘Yes, I do.’

  ‘Not if you stopped your police work. Hopefully not many of your non-police patients die unexpectedly and need post mortems.’

  ‘No, a few, of course, but...’ Jo gave the proposition some serious thought. ‘No.’ She shook her head, ‘And I don’t want to give up the police work anyway. And,’ she stopped the retort on Kate’s lips, ‘it’s not up for discussion.’

  Kate knew her friend’s tone of voice meant that much as she might like Billy Iqbal, she would not allow herself to go out with him under any circumstances. Jo could be very stubborn once she had made a decision and when she dug her heels in there was no shifting her.

  ‘Are you worried about what your mother might think if you brought an Asian doctor home?’

  ‘Of course not. She wouldn’t mind a bit. My mother might be prej- udiced against the poor, Cockneys, men with dirty fingernails -’

  ‘Estuary accents,’ Kate chipped in. ‘And Geordie accents.’

  ‘Ooh, I love a Geordie accent.’

  ‘Men with bottoms and women without, bad manners and beards, but,’ Jo finished, ‘she is not a racist.’

  ‘Men with bottoms?’ Kate was astounded. ‘I like nicely rounded buttocks.’

  ‘Apparently you cannot trust a man with a bottom.’

  ‘I like beards too,’ Kate mused.

  ‘I think it’s safe to say that you and my mother would not agree on suitable men.’

  ‘Very safe. She will be adding lawyers to the banned list at this rate.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Have you not been keeping up with the news?’

  ‘You mean about that Ponting woman?’

  ‘Her, Giles Townsend, Adrian Cole and now John Dixon.’

  ‘You’ve lost me.’ Jo was genuinely confused. ‘I know Giles Townsend was a solicitor, but Cole worked in finance and I don’t know who John Dixon is.’ Although as she said the name, it did ring a faint bell.

  ‘Adrian Cole was a corporate lawyer in a finance company, and John Dixon is a member of the SRA, the Solicitors Regulation Author- ity, and he collapsed in a gay sauna in London last night.’

  ‘But he didn’t die?’

  ‘No, not yet anyway, although his condition is critical.’ ‘Probably had a stroke or a heart attack or something.’ ‘Sure, but lawyers do seem to be dropping like flies.’

  ‘Yes. Yes, they do.’ Jo thought for a moment. ‘How did it get out that this Dixon fellow collapsed in a gay sauna?’

  ‘Someone must have tipped off the press.’ ‘Like with Ms Ponting.’

  ‘Yes.’ Kate could see where she was going with this. ‘And Giles.’ ‘And Mr Cole. There was even a piece in one of the Sunday papers

  about his boss, what’s his name?’ Jo clicked her fingers.’ Got it! Wend- lesham. There was a spread in one of the magazines with pictures of the pool and some insinuations about his working practices.’

  ‘That’s right. They suggested that he bullied staff and repeated that the firm was under review by the SFO, careful to stay just the right side of the libel laws.’

  ‘We have two dead lawyers and two, or three if you count Wendle- sham, damaged ones. Or is he actually a lawyer?’

  ‘Dunno.’

  ‘Either way, they were all found in embarrassing circumstances and with the press tipped off in each case.’ Seeing as Jo seemed too lost in thought to eat, Kate helped herself to the last of the crudités.

  ‘No.’ Jo shook her head and Kate paused with a piece of red pepper in her hand. ‘No, in this day and age, collapsing in a gay sauna isn’t a real embarrassment.’

  ‘It is when you are married to the daughter of a millionaire known for his homophobia.’

  ‘Really?’

  Kate nodded and mentioned the name of an American entrepre- neur whose rigid views on what God thought about promiscuity, abor- tion and homosexuality, were often quoted in newspapers who had also highlighted his financial support of groups campaigning against them. There were also rumours that he had supported direct action in some instances. Whether or not he had permission to speak or act on behalf of God was unknown.

  ‘You can imagine what the press have made of it.’ Jo let that sink in.

  ‘Are you thinking what I’m thinking?’ Kate asked her.

  ‘I’m not a mind reader, but I’m wondering if all these incidents are connected,’ Jo replied. ‘And if they are, whether anyone else has spotted it.’

  ‘Not to mention, who’s next?’ Kate finished her beer and pointed to Jo’s wine glass. ‘Same again?’

  Chapter 14

  Friday was the weekday morning that was allocated for Jo to do ad- ministration but in fact she often used the time to catch up on house- work and shopping, arguing that she frequently stayed late at the sur- gery to finish her paperwork. Today, however, she was using the time to visit the police station under the pretext of checking stock in the treatment room in preparation for the weekend. Friday and Saturday nights were traditionally the busiest times for a police doctor, due to the raised level of alcohol consumption in the general population. A large part of her work shifts was spent taking blood from suspected drink or drug drivers, or dealing with prisoners with minor injuries from pub brawls and domestics. The real reason Jo was at the police station today, however, was that she wanted a surreptitious word with Miller so that she could bring up her discussion with Kate. Was some- one really trying to humiliate and kill lawyers? Or was there some other relationship between the victims. Jo was sure that they were linked in some way; in her opinion there were too many coincidences for them not to be, but she knew it would be hard to convince Miller, particularly as the latest incident was nowhere near his patch.

  When Miller was running a major investigation, such as a murder enquiry, he liked to have a briefing at eight-thirty every morning and again at six o’clock in the evening. The first to allocate lines of enquiry for the day and the latter for the team to report back on their findings. With the enquiry into Giles Townsend’s death under way, Jo knew his schedule and so was confident she would find him still in the incident room at nine. Hopefully the briefing would be over and everyone else would be busy following their orders for the day.

  She was pleased to see she was right, although DS Bob Jeffries looked up from his screen as she passed.

  ‘What’s up, Doc?’ he asked. ‘Been missing us?’

  Jo didn’t even break her stride as she walked straight to Miller’s of- fice door. She could see him at the desk, frowning slightly as he read a report. She couldn’t help but notice the dark circles under his eyes and the drawn expression. She thought that he must be working too ha
rd, or perhaps he still had problems at home. It must not be easy with his wife Lizzie pregnant. Jo hoped that things would get easier now she was getting closer to the third trimester and maybe they would even get to enjoy some of the pregnancy.

  Miller looked up as Jo knocked and entered and she thought she saw a flash of irritation at being disturbed before he recovered and smiled a welcome.

  ‘Good morning.’ She closed the door behind her, hoping against hope that Jeffries would take the hint and not follow her in, but as she sat down in the only visitor chair, she could see, to her dismay, that he was making his way over.

  ‘Morning.’ Miller waited as she sat and composed herself. Jo had planned exactly what she was going to say as she unpacked boxes of sterile syringes and needles in the treatment room, but now that she was in front of Miller, she couldn’t remember anything.

  ‘I wanted to talk to you about Adrian Cole,’ she started as Jeffries came into the room, ‘and Giles Townsend, Diana Ponting... ‘ Miller made as if to interrupt, ‘... and John Dixon.’

  That stopped both of them in their tracks. ‘Who the fuck is John Dixon?’ Jeffries asked.

  Jo ignored his language and instead explained about all the different lawyers and how they had died or been caught out.

  ‘But,’ Miller said, as soon as she had finished, ‘there’s no connection between them.’

  ‘They were all involved in law in some way.’

  ‘Different areas of the law, and not even in the same geographical area,’ Miller argued as Jo knew he would; even she had to admit the connection was tenuous.

  ‘That Townsend bastard specialised in defending the shitbags the Ponting woman tried to put away,’ was Jeffries’ contribution to the argument.

  ‘Yes,’ Jo agreed, trying not to wince as he spoke, ‘but they were all lawyers and all were humiliated in some way by the incidents.’

  ‘What’s humiliating about being found skinny dipping in your boss’s swimming pool?’ Jeffries countered. ‘Bit embarrassing for the boss, but not so much for Cole.’

  ‘True, but didn’t Sir Geoffrey say that there had been a problem with some emails he sent? Wasn’t that the reason Cole had been sacked? He said they were outrageous if I remember rightly. Can you at least find out what they were, and if Cole really did drown in the pool?’

  There was a moments silence as Miller and Jeffries exchanged looks.

  ‘What?’ Jo asked.

  Miller cleared his throat.

  ‘The new pathologist, Dr -’ Miller hesitated, trying to remember the name.

  ‘Iqbal,’ Jo helped out.

  ‘Dr Iqbal, took samples of water from Cole’s lungs and the lab has confirmed that he did not die in the pool.’

  Jo restrained herself from punching the air. ‘Did he at least drown?’

  ‘Oh yes. He did drown, most likely in the hot tub at his own home, his clothes and phone were found there.’

  ‘He was moved after death.’

  ‘We think so, but we’ll know for sure later today.’

  ‘Do you think the wife moved him? To embarrass Sir Geoffrey?’ ‘We’ll be questioning her later, but look,’ Miller paused to choose

  his words carefully, ‘even if someone did move him after he’d died, it’s not really much of a crime.’

  Jo was a little hazy on the law. ‘Unlawful disposal of a body?’

  ‘There’s no reason to think they were preventing legal disposal, just delaying it slightly.’

  ‘Taking the body on tour, so to speak,’ Jeffries chipped in. ‘Not to be encouraged, on the whole, but not illegal.’

  ‘What about interfering with a body?’

  ‘Possible,’ mused Miller, ‘but we’d have to get CPS advice, and there’s the question of whether or not it’s in the public interest to pros- ecute.’

  this drop.

  Of course,’ Miller said carefully, ‘the Coroner might want to talk to whoever moved him about interfering with the due process of an inquest.’

  With a sigh, Jo accepted that they were not going to take the body of Adrian Cole being moved seriously, and were, in fact, going to pass the buck to the Coroner’s office.

  ‘It would be good to know how his wife, or whoever, got the body to the pool without help.’

  ‘He wasn’t a big bloke and she had his car.’

  ‘How did she get home? She must have had help.’

  ‘I don’t think there would be a shortage of people happy to embar- rass Wendlesham,’ Miller replied.

  ‘A city fat cat, like that?’ Jeffries added. ‘They’d be queuing up to cause trouble.’

  ‘You don’t think this could be about something like that?’ Jo asked. ‘I mean someone wanting to damage their businesses?’

  ‘Why the solicitor’s regulatory bods, then? That’s not a business.’

  Jeffries wasn’t going to let her get away with anything, that was for sure.

  ‘What are you going to do about all these cases?’ Jo persevered. ‘Ms Ponting is being investigated by the Hampshire force due to

  her connection to us, and they are busy going over all her recent case decisions as well.’ Miller explained calmly. Jo knew there would be serious repercussions if there was any suspicion that she had not acted competently in any prosecutions. If the hospital board were worried about Lucy Cavendish’s drinking having affected any of her work, and what would happen if it got out, Ms Ponting’s recent and very public incident would be an even greater worry for the CPS.

  ‘Cole almost certainly died in Kent, even if his body was found here, so Kent are in charge of that. Dixon will be under the Met if a crime has occurred,’ Miller continued, ‘although that seems unlikely, and we have quite enough going on with Giles Townsend to mean that we can’t make someone possibly moving a body a priority.’

  ‘And how’s that going?’ Jo asked.

  ‘How’s what going?’ Miller countered.

  ‘The investigation into Giles Townsend’s murder?’

  ‘Or suicide,’ Jeffries chipped in. Both Jo and Miller ignored him.

  ‘Did you see the woman in the downstairs flat when you attended the scene?’ Miller asked her.

  Jo thought for a moment.

  ‘Yes, she was comforting the receptionist who found the body – what was her name, Penny? Anyway, she was making tea for everyone and handing out biscuits.’

  ‘Can you remember anything about her?’ ‘Who? Penny?’

  ‘No. The woman in the downstairs flat,’ Miller said in an overly patient tone.

  ‘Why don’t you go and see her, if you want to know what she’s like?’

  ‘She’s gone. Now think, what was she like?’

  Jo thought back to the day and tried to visualise the scene.

  ‘She seemed nice,’ she ventured. ‘Concerned. I didn’t really look at her.’

  ‘No one seems to have.’ Miller looked disappointed, so Jo tried harder.

  ‘She was, well, not slim,’ she said tactfully. ‘Late thirties maybe. Longish brown hair. In a very unattractive velour leisure suit thing. Where has she gone?’

  Miller shrugged.

  ‘We can’t seem to find her.’

  ‘She probably didn’t like the thought of him dying up above her.

  Can’t blame her for doing a runner,’ Jeffries added. ‘No forwarding address?’ Jo asked.

  Miller shook his head.

  ‘Probably didn’t like the tabloid press hanging round,’ Jeffries continued, blissfully unaware of his poor choice of words given how Townsend had been found, ‘and didn’t want to make it too easy for them to find her new address.’

  ‘But surely you have her details? Even if she didn’t own the flat she must have had some personal checks to rent it, surely?’

  ‘Of course,’ Miller said. ‘The agency did a credit check and took references and everything, and we’re following them up. I just find it a bit strange that she packed up and left so suddenly.’

  Jo agreed that it did seem odd, even i
f Jeffries didn’t, and it frus- trated her that she couldn’t remember more about the woman, but she had been more concerned about the body waiting for her upstairs. ‘And I can’t interest you in my theory about the connection be-

  tween all these lawyers?’

  Their completely blank faces told her that she couldn’t.

  ‘But don’t let that stop you from bringing more of your crackpot conspiracy theories to us, Doc. We love ‘em, don’t we, Boss? Don’t get many laughs in this job, but you’re always good value.’

  Jo glowered at Jeffries but it didn’t make the slightest difference to the grin plastered over his face, and she wasn’t mollified by the slight shake of Miller’s head. He might not agree with how his sergeant had put it, but he clearly wasn’t impressed by her theory either.

  Jo stormed out of the office with as much dignity as she could mus- ter, but once she had calmed down, she couldn’t help thinking about the disappearing woman from the downstairs flat as she returned to the surgery to collect her afternoon visit list and the notes.

  Surely, if she had just decided to leave because she didn’t like the idea of Townsend dying in the rooms above, she would have been quite easy to find. Even if she didn’t want the press to follow her, you would have thought she would have left a forwarding address with the rental agency at the very least, with instructions not to just give it out to anyone, of course. But the police should have been able to get it, surely?

  All through her afternoon visits – an elderly man with heart fail- ure, a wheelchair-bound woman with cellulitis and a joint visit with the Community Psychiatric Nurse to an agoraphobic – Jo wondered why the police would be having difficulty tracing the missing woman, but couldn’t come up with anything other than that the woman clearly did not want to be found.

  Her last visit of the afternoon was to June Springfield, newly re- leased from hospital. Jo arrived just as a district nurse was leaving. She was glad, and more than a little relieved, that June had finally agreed to some help.

  ‘She’s in bed, Dr Hughes,’ the nurse explained as she let Jo in. ‘The son’s given us a key, but you’ll probably need one as well.’