‘Great!’ I exclaimed. ‘So now we’ve got another woman in the equation. Thanks a bundle, Henry.’
‘Don’t shoot the messenger,’ commented Mortlock drily.
When Dave and I returned to ESB, I was still thinking about the identity of Sharon’s murderer, and the added complication of another woman having been at the murder scene. Sidney Miller kept coming into mind. He was on the scene of Clifford Gregory’s murder very quickly – much too quickly, perhaps – and I wondered whether he had been involved in it. Sharon’s belated admission that she was naked when she’d wandered around the house with Miller, and his ready confirmation that she was, led me to believe that there might’ve been a greater degree of intimacy between the two than either of them had been prepared to admit. More to the point, Miller had instantly and vehemently denied any such relationship: ‘You don’t do it on your own doorstep,’ he had claimed. I’d thought at the time that the denial was just a little too instant and a little too emphatic to be true. But CID officers are, by the very nature of their calling, cynical and disbelieving.
Set against that was the evidence that had come to light that Sharon Gregory was promiscuous. Miller had said she was a flirt, and Gordon Harrison admitted to having had sexual intercourse with her whenever they were both in Miami. But now, it seemed, she was also bisexual.
Gordon Harrison’s name had, of course, been only one of those on the mobile that Sharon had kept at the airport, well away from where her husband might’ve found it. There were three others who we had yet to see.
And that reminded me …
‘How are you getting on with tracking down the two Florida telephone numbers, Dave?’ I asked.
‘I’ve been on to the Miami-Dade Police, guv, and they were able to give me details of the subscribers. Both were cellphones, as the Americans call them. One went out to a Lance Kramer, a theatrical designer, and the other to a Miles Donahue, described as an entrepreneur.’ Dave laughed. ‘And that’s a job description that covers a multitude of sins. Both these guys are resident in the Miami Beach area within a ten-mile radius of the Shannon Hotel.’
‘I think we need to ask the Miami-Dade Police to interview them and find out how well they knew Sharon. And where they were on the night of her murder.’
‘It’s the Miami Beach Police we need to talk to, sir,’ said Dave. ‘Apparently, that’s the force that covers that area.’
‘On second thoughts, Dave, I don’t think so. This enquiry is beginning to get complicated. We’ll have a word with Ben Donaldson.’ Donaldson was the resident FBI agent at the United States Embassy in London and masqueraded as their legal attaché. ‘He’ll know the best people to get in touch with in Florida, and while he’s at it, we’ll ask for enquiries to be made at the Shannon Hotel. We know Sharon was visited there by Gordon Harrison, but I’m interested in any other visitors she might’ve had while she was staying there on a stopover. And see if you can get a decent photograph of her that we can take with us to the embassy.’
‘We’ve got the post-mortem photograph that was taken at the scene, guv. Will that do?’
‘It’ll have to, Dave. I don’t want to delay this investigation any more than is necessary.’
‘Surely you don’t think that one of these guys might’ve come over to Heathrow for one night just to strangle Sharon Gregory, do you, guv?’ There was doubt combined with cynicism in Dave’s voice.
‘Funnier things have happened,’ I said. ‘Get a car and we’ll make our way to the embassy.’
‘By the way, guv, Ted Richie rang back. He’s made a few enquiries and he’s come up with a name.’
‘What name?’
‘D’you remember asking him if Sharon had a special friend among the crew. Richie reckons that a girl called Cindy Patterson and Sharon were as thick as thieves. She might be able to shed some light on what Sharon got up to in Miami.’
‘We’ll make a point of seeing her at some time,’ I said. ‘Remind me.’
‘Got a minute, sir?’ asked DC Sheila Armitage, appearing in my office.
‘What is it, Sheila?’
‘I went out to Uxbridge, sir, and followed up on the purchases that were made on Clifford Gregory’s credit card.’
‘And?’
‘Sharon Gregory was identified by the shop assistant who sold her the kinky underwear. At least, she said it was a woman in airline uniform and the time and the description fitted. Apparently they had a discussion about the erotic underwear Sharon purchased. I also spoke to the waiter who served her in the Italian restaurant. He remembered her very clearly.’