Reckless Endangerment(73)

‘I’m adamant,’ said Curtis. ‘The four of us had been there often, and when Donna and I arrived that evening, I asked Jimmy if the Reeds had arrived yet, but he said they hadn’t.’

‘You say that Muriel telephoned you that evening, Miss Webb,’ said Dave. ‘At what time?’

‘I’m not sure. I was having a bath and Adrian took the call. What time was it, darling?’ Donna glanced at Curtis.

‘It was certainly after five o’clock,’ said Curtis. ‘Perhaps quarter past, even half past. But to tell you the truth, I’m not really sure.’

‘Did this happen often, that they’d ring you at a moment’s notice and suggest a meeting at Dorking?’ I asked, and noted that Dave had begun writing in his pocketbook.

‘Yes. As a matter of fact, that was the way we usually fixed our get-togethers,’ said Donna. ‘All four of us liked the idea of a spur-of-the-moment arrangement like that; it added to the excitement. Spiced it up, if you know what I mean.’

Actually, I didn’t know what she meant, but I invited her to continue.

‘Sometimes they’d suggest coming here or they’d ask us to their place in Chelsea,’ said Donna. ‘Sometimes they’d just arrive and we’d indulge our fantasies here, or they’d give us a lift to Dorking. We’ve been there quite often. Sometimes we dress up to act out a game, but it’s all innocent fun. The Simpsons sometimes join in, too.’

Donna Webb appeared to be quite uninhibited as she described the arrangements that she and Curtis had made for their orgies with the Reeds. But that aside, I thought that Adrian Curtis and Donna Webb were too honest to have been part of a complex plot whereby they’d been used by the Reeds to cover up the murder of Sharon Gregory. And I had to be satisfied with their account of what had happened on that night.

On Wednesday morning, Linda Mitchell reported the result of the forensic science laboratory’s tests on the DNA sample taken from Julian Reed.

‘Julian Reed is definitely the father of Sharon’s unborn child, Mr Brock, and the hairs found on the pillow and elsewhere on the bed at the Dickin Hotel also match his DNA. But there were several other hairs present on the bed that are neither Reed’s nor Sharon’s. And of course, the vaginal fluids.’

‘Any result on fingerprints, Linda?’ I asked.

‘The fingerprints don’t help much,’ said Linda. ‘There is, however, a set on the mobile phone that Dave found in the hotel room, but they’re not Sharon’s.’ She paused. ‘They’re Julian Reed’s.’

‘Forgetting the phones for a moment,’ I said, ‘I reckon the DNA clinches it. In my book it confirms that Julian Reed’s the killer and was in such a hurry to leave that he picked up the wrong phone.’

‘In addition to the phone, we found some other prints in the hotel room that match the set that were taken from Reed yesterday,’ continued Linda, ‘but there were a hell of a lot more that we couldn’t identify, including a set on the mobile phone found in Reed’s car. But it’s no surprise that Sharon’s prints are on it.’

‘It looks as though I was right,’ I said. ‘In his hurry to get the hell out of there, Reed picked up Sharon’s phone by mistake and left his own. Which just goes to show that a killer can usually be relied upon to make a mistake.’

‘There was one other set found in the room that might interest you, Mr Brock.’ Linda shuffled through her sheaf of papers and handed me a criminal record printout. ‘They go out to a Paul Matthews with an address in Sheffield. He’s got a previous conviction for false accounting and theft. He was a bank clerk and stole funds from the account of one of the bank’s customers. He got three years.’

‘I told you they didn’t clean those hotel rooms properly,’ commented Dave.

‘This Matthews doesn’t sound like a murderer,’ I said, ‘but ask Sheffield Police to check on his whereabouts when Sharon was topped, Dave. And then we’ll get a search warrant for the Reeds’ house in Chelsea.’

‘We don’t need one, guv,’ said Dave, ‘now that we’ve arrested Reed for Sharon’s murder.’

‘I know we don’t need one, Dave, but I’d rather have a district judge who can be blamed if it all goes pear-shaped. And right now I’ve got a nasty feeling it might.’

‘Got a minute, guv?’ Detective Sergeant Flynn hovered in the doorway of my office clutching his large daybook.

‘What is it, Charlie?’

‘The Honourable Julian Reed, guv. Turns out his property development business is going down the tubes. Of course, it could be some tax avoidance scheme,’ said Flynn. ‘There’s a lot more to it all than meets the eye, but it’s beginning to look like some sort of scam. I think it might finish up in the Fraud Squad’s lap. But my take on it is that he has substantial funds in offshore accounts – tax havens probably. Mind you, it’ll probably turn out to be legit.’ He looked a bit disappointed.