Chapter 33
1280 Words
33
As Benjamin Newell hadn’t been arrested for the assault on Ollie Hardcastle, Wendy Knight and Jack Culverhouse went to visit him at his home. This was the sort of man who’d likely give you more in an informal statement than he would in an official interview situation.
Newell’s home certainly had traces of a female influence, although it looked as though that influence had been absent for the past couple of days.
‘Missus not in?’ Culverhouse said, after the introductions had been made and Newell had ushered them through into the living room.
‘Uh, no,’ he said, scratching the back of his head. ‘She’s not.’
‘Not nipped out to the shops for a pint of milk, I’m guessing.’
‘No. She’s staying with her parents.’
‘Interesting choice of honeymoon.’
‘Yeah, well it’s cheaper than the Seychelles,’ Newell said, sitting down in an armchair.
‘How long’s she away for?’ Wendy asked, sitting down on the sofa next to Culverhouse.
Benjamin Newell shook his head. ‘No idea. You tell me. How long do women need to get their heads straight?’
Wendy wanted to say she didn’t know because she didn’t tend to go for men who started fights on their own wedding day, but decided against it. She hadn’t had the best track record when it came to dating, but she could honestly say she’d so far managed to avoid the violent types. Maybe it was her background as a police officer. Perhaps she could spot them a mile off, or them her.
‘So, what happened?’ she asked.
Newell looked at them for a moment before averting his eyes back towards the carpet. ‘I’m guessing you already know that. This isn’t a social call, I take it.’
‘We do need it in your own words,’ Culverhouse said.
Newell looked at them again. ‘Aren’t you arresting me?’
‘We just want to get your version of events at the moment,’ Wendy replied.
Newell’s eyes narrowed. ‘Nah, this is something else, isn’t it? If that Hardcastle prick had made a complaint or pressed charges, you’d have arrested me on the doorstep and asked questions later. So if this isn’t about the incident at the wedding, what is it?’
Wendy looked at Culverhouse, whose face told her she should try to stick to the agreed line of conversation for now.
‘It’s to do with an incident we think might be connected in some way. We haven’t arrested you because we’re not accusing you of anything. We just want to get some background information that might help us with our enquiries.’
‘What enquiries? Something Hardcastle’s done? If it is, count me in. I’d love to see that little wanker get sent down.’
‘Does the name Frederick Galloway mean anything to you?’ Culverhouse asked, going straight for the jugular. Occasionally, it was necessary to jerk an interviewee with a short, sharp shock, then watch their reaction as they were jolted into reality. He could see from Benjamin Newell’s face that it’d had the desired effect.
‘You know damn well it does,’ Newell replied after a few seconds. ‘You didn’t come out here without looking at my record first.’
‘Freddie Galloway died in an arson attack on his home the other night,’ Culverhouse said.
Benjamin Newell swallowed, but otherwise gave no reaction.
‘You don’t seem too surprised to hear that,’ Wendy said.
‘Yeah, well, news travels fast round these parts.’
‘Good news or bad news?’ Culverhouse asked.
‘Both,’ came the response.
‘So you’re not upset to hear that your old boss died slowly and painfully in his own home?’
‘He wasn’t my boss.’
‘He ran the Trenton-Lowe job. The one you did three and a half years’ porridge for.’
‘Yeah, well I wasn’t the only one.’
Culverhouse nodded slowly. ‘I know. There were two of you who had good reason to hold a grudge against Freddie Galloway.’
He left this hanging in the air for a few moments, watching as Benjamin Newell tried to formulate his next response.
‘I don’t do grudges,’ he said, eventually.
‘And what about John Lucas?’ Wendy asked.
‘What about him?’
‘Does he hold grudges?’
‘You’d have to ask him that, wouldn’t you?’ Newell folded his arms and leaned back in the chair.
‘Are you aware that John Lucas has been released from prison?’ Wendy asked.
Benjamin Newell seemed to start blinking faster than usual. ‘I heard someone mention something, yeah.’
‘He was released on the same day Freddie Galloway’s house burnt down,’ Culverhouse said. ‘A few hours earlier, in fact.’
Newell was silent for a few moments, before raising his shoulders and upturned palms like a caricature French waiter. ‘And what do you want me to do about that?’
‘Well, offer us your thoughts and opinions, perhaps,’ Culverhouse replied. ‘Did John Lucas hold a grudge against Freddie Galloway? Enough to want to burn his house down and kill him a few hours after getting out of prison, knowing damn well the trail would lead straight to him?’ He could see from Newell’s face that he didn’t agree with this line of thinking. ‘What is it? You know something, don’t you?’
Newell shook his head. ‘No. I don’t know nothing. All I do know is John Lucas weren’t stupid. Listen, he’d been inside a long time. He had a lot of space to think and plan something if he was going to do it. He wouldn’t just come out, go round and torch the place. That’d be stupid.’
Culverhouse had to agree. But that left only one or two possibilities. Either John Lucas was that stupid, or someone else had set him up. The only person they could find who had a direct grudge against Galloway and was connected to Lucas was Newell himself, so why would he all but acquit Lucas, knowing suspicion would fall on himself as a result? Something still didn’t feel right.
‘Do you have a habit of reacting quickly and violently, Mr Newell?’ Culverhouse asked, again trying to catch him off guard.
‘How do you mean?’
‘I mean, for example, reacting to another man talking flirtatiously about your wife by kicking his head in at your own wedding, or perhaps reacting to one of your old criminal accomplices being released from prison by burning someone’s house down to try and frame him.’
‘You still haven’t arrested me, Detective Chief Inspector,’ Newell said, avoiding the question.
‘I’m well aware of that,’ Culverhouse replied. ‘But let’s face it. John Lucas is the reason you went down, wasn’t it?’
‘I went down because I got caught by a traffic patrol car driving away from the scene.’
‘Yes, and you would’ve had a fine and a slap on the wrist for driving without insurance, if it hadn’t been for John Lucas blasting half a pound of lead shot into a policeman’s face.’
Culverhouse could see Newell’s jaw moving as he ground his teeth.
‘I served my time. So did John. He served three times what I did, too. Justice was done. I’m happy with that. I’ve changed now. I’m a family man.’
‘A family man who hides a dark secret, Mr Newell. A family man who can’t even keep that darkness under wraps on his own wedding day.’
‘Listen, you would’ve reacted in exactly the same way if someone had said that about your missus,’ Newell said, looking at Culverhouse.
‘Would I?’ the DCI replied, his voice level, locking eyes with Newell.
‘Yes. Yes, you would. Now, are you going to arrest me or not?’
‘That depends,’ Wendy said, trying to defuse the situation. ‘Where were you on the night Freddie Galloway died?’
‘In the evening I was out for a few drinks with some mates. It was the night before my wedding. Then I stayed at my mate Cameron’s place to get ready the next morning.’
‘And they can vouch for that?’ Wendy asked.
‘Yeah. So can a pub-full of people and the taxi driver who picked us up the next morning.’
Wendy knew the next step would be to check the mobile phone triangulation from Benjamin Newell’s phone, which would tell them exactly where he — or, at least, his phone — had been during those hours. It wouldn’t categorically prove his innocence, but if he was lying and took his phone with him to Freddie Galloway’s house, it’d be pretty damning evidence in court.
Wendy smiled and nodded. ‘Thank you for your time, Mr Newell. We’ll be in touch.’
As they got back in the car outside, Culverhouse let out a huge sigh. ‘We’ll need to get a trace put on his phone. See who he calls now.’
‘Already done,’ Wendy replied, fastening her seatbelt. ‘If he panics and calls someone, we’ll know about it straight away. That should’ve been enough to put him into panic mode if he was involved.’
‘And if he wasn’t?’
Wendy took her turn to sigh. ‘Then we’ve got a lot of work on our plate.'
- Writer
