Monday 2 November 2015

Episode 22 - The identity parade


Cleo was well informed the Norton brothers. Nicknamed Sam and Jam, they were in fact identical twins who capitalized on their incredible likeness. They baffled even close relatives.
Samuel and James Norton had already caused and practised  confusion at school. It was always the other twin who was to blame. Unless you knew them very well indeed, you could not say who was who. Their criminal record was long and colourful, starting with bullying, bribery and drug-peddling on the school playground, through petty crimes such as shop-lifting and burglary, to the really big stuff, such as trading in stolen cars, women and drug smuggling, fixing sports events and even running a dubious betting shop in Middlethumpton High Street that was known as a money laundering venue. They were also suspected of organizing prostitution from that betting shop and they were not only scheming but also shrewd and well-organized with a backup of decently paid ‘assistants’.
The police dreamt of catching the Nortons in action, but there was defeatism in the police force about their apparent immunity. The shop premises in Upper Grumpsfield had been stocked with junk and served no apparent useful purpose, except as a blind. It di not take long for them to have the use of three garages in the yard behind the building. The Nortons were not averse to a little petty crime, either. Even Mr Bontemps acting as a fence or go-between for the Norton brothers did not seem to arouse suspicion. Or had the wily Norton brothers thought of a way to silence anyone likely to spill the beans. Was the Upper Grumpsfield presence simply a cover?
*** 
Pulling in the Nortons was a coup. The accusation of murder was something they had not experienced before, which does not mean that they had not murdered anybody, but only that they had either got away with it or hired someone else to take the rap. Would they the blame on Mr Bontemps and get away with it?
***
After Robert had gone to the shop on Thursday morning, Cleo phoned Gary for any updates. Gary told her that Jessica was staying in a HQ guestroom upstairs. She would be interviewed by Shirley Temple later that morning. Gary did not know what she was planning, but she had instructions not to leave Middlethumpton until told she could. Jessica seemed to have enough money to go on with and considering the two people closest to her had been murdered, she seemed in a remarkably stable frame of mind, but she was under constant discrete surveillance. Before she could return to London, Jason's flat would be taken apart.
Nothing wrong with any of that, thought Cleo.
"And the Norton brothers aren't saying anything?" she asked.
"Tight as clams," Gary replied. "In separate cells, but making identical statements that contain no facts whatsoever. It's uncanny. As if they were communicating via telepathy."
"It's been done before, Gary."
"Not in Middlethumpton it hasn't."
"How do you know that? Why did the Norton brothers escape arrest for so long?"
"The drugs team was onto something and got a bit out of step. They bugged the wrong car. The Nortons drive a fleet of identical white BMWs. Eventually we had them all bugged, but that was a logistic nightmare."
Of course, that kind of detection was beyond the capacity of a private investigator. Cleo wondered why Just arresting guys who might be involved in some way in the Finch case was being clocked up as an achievement. Was Gary simply not telling Cleo about evidence against the Nortons?
She would ask.
"I assume that you have enough evidence against them to detain them, haven’t you? How about asking them why one of their white cars tried to run me down?”
"Plenty to detain them, but they have drivers, so unless you can identify the guy at the wheel we can’t get them for a hit and run attempt."
“That makes sense. I did not see anything because Mr Parsnip was pushing me into the hedge and I don’t think he is observant enough to have done that and make a note of the car driver at the same time. I’m rather glad he was more anxious about me.”
“So am I,” said Gary.
Cleo had not confided all her suspicions to Gary.
"I'd like you to do something for me," said Cleo. "It might even provide you with a few more answers, and it would satisfy my curiosity."
"If it's within my power."
"Get Bontemps to identify the Norton brothers. Don't let them see Bontemps. I'd like to know how Bontemps reacts."
"Would you like to see that happening?"
"Can I bring Colin along? He's dying to be in on something like that."
"He can stand between the Nortons,” said Gary, quite amused at the idea of Colin lined up with cops and robbers. You think an identity parade could also be important for the Laura Finch case, don’t you, Cleo?"
"I sure do, and I'd like you to put Gareth Morgan through the same procedure."
"OK. I'll organize it."
Cleo phoned Julie and she declared that she would rather help her father in the shop. She'd played enough cops and robbers, thank you very much. Colin was highly delighted to be included in the police routine. He would enjoy standing in as a possible suspect. He called in for Cleo and they drove into Middlethumpton in Colin's car. This time he parked in a visitor's space behind the building without prior consultation with the road-worker who seemed to have monopoly on the cobble-laying task in front of HQ.
Shirley Temple met them at the information desk and led them downstairs.
"Mr Bontemps is already here," she informed them. "I’ll take you to where you have to go, Mr Peck, and then Cleo and I will go into a side room from where we can watch everything without anyone seeing us."
The setup was well thought through. From their vantage point behind yet another one-way window. Gary pressed a buzzer to notify the identity parade of imminent viewing, and then the button used to open the silver metal blind was pressed. It opened revealing a whole row of men including, of course, the Norton brothers and Colin, looking uncomfortable standing between them in his gangster role. Cleo had seen the Nortons on photos and wondered how their identities could be ascertained with any certainty. Colin had never set eyes on them before.
Bontemps was terrified and whispered to Cleo if he was visible to the men standing in a row with numbers above their heads. The camera set up to film the reactions of witnesses from the front recorded his extreme agitation. He looked back and forth along the row. Numbers 2 and 4 were the Norton brothers, but who was who was known only to themselves. They were carrying no form of identity when they were arrested and had not revealed anything in the 24 hours they had been in custody.
"Are you sure they can’t see me?" Bontemps hissed.
"Who?" Gary, who was in charge of the proceedings, asked him.
"Them two, I mean those three," he said, pointing to Colin and the Nortons.
 "Can you identify them?"
"Slightly. I think number two is Sam."
"Sam who?"
"I don't know their second names," Bontemps lied. "The other one, with the number 4, is the other Norton; Jam."
What about Number 3, Mr Bontemps? Gary thought a little humour was needed.
“Doesn’t he run the kiosk at the bottom of Thumpton Hill?” said Bontemps.
“I expect he does. Not a criminal then?”
How should I know?”
"How do you know Numbers 2 and 4, Mr Bontemps? Didn’t you say Sam and Jam?"
"They come into my shop."
Do you always know your customers by their first names?"
"No."
"So how do you know their first names?"
"From…from…"
"Go on, Mr Bontemps. Or would you prefer me to tell you?"
"I think the one with Number 3 over his head must be a shop-lifter. Number 5 runs the kiosk.”
"Really?"
Gary pressed the button to close the blind.
"We'll go somewhere more comfortable and have a little chat, shall we?"
"I 'aven't done nothing," protested Bontemps, completely forgetting that he was supposed to be French.
"Then there's nothing to be afraid of, Mr Bontemps."
He was led away by a policeman in uniform – that tended to intimidate the guilty and reassure the innocent.
Five minutes later a protesting Gareth Morgan was escorted into the identity room and told to stand in front of the blind. He had never been to an identification parade and he didn't want to be at this one, he told Gary Hurley in no uncertain terms.
Gary opened the blind and pressed a buzzer. That made Mr Morgan jump. The five men lined up on the other side of the glass partition came into view. Mr Morgan scrutinized them.
"They can't see me, can they?" he wanted to know.
"No. you're quite safe. Do you know any of them?"
"I don't know them, but I could swear the two at numbers 2 and 4 rent garages in my yard. What have they done?"
"That's what we'd like to know, Mr Morgan. Thanks for coming. You can go now."
To his astonishment, Mr Morgan was led out of the room and escorted to the main exit.
Whatever Mr Morgan might have done seemed to be of no interest to Gary. Cleo wondered if he hadn't jumped the guns by letting Mr Morgan go. But on the other hand, Mr Morgan was still alive, so presumably he hadn't seen anyone do anything or been seen watching some sort of misdemeanour.
Cleo suspected that witnessing something by coincidence had been Laura Finch's downfall. She hoped Gary knew what he was doing.
Colin was not particularly gratified that he could be taken for a shop-lifter. He would have preferred the kiosk, he said. Cleo comforted him by telling him that you could not tell a priest from a killer if you went by facial traits.
“I’m going to get Julie some flowers now, Cleo, and I’ll pay for them. Shall I pick you up in say half an hour?”
“I’ll drive Cleo home,” said Gary, and Colin departed.
“You don’t mind, do you, Cleo?” said Gary. “We could talk for a bit. My flat isn’t far away. We could relax for a bit after all this high drama. Would you like a decent coffee?”
“I shouldn’t Gary, but yes please. I really need a coffee after seeing those clowns in a row, excluding Colin of course.”
“You might also want to exclude Number 5. He’s the funeral director from across the road. He makes a good suspect. He’s been identified numerous times and he’s always willing to stand there poker-faced.”
“I suppose that means that felons just identify someone and think that gets them off the hook,” said Cleo.
“Yes. They don’t realise that we know they are prevaricating.”
“Awesome!”
***
It did not take long to drive to the quiet suburb where Gary lived. He had moved out of his wife’s house only recently. The marriage had been a farce for a long time, kept up only for the sake of Charlie, the little girl. Gary’s was worried that his wife would take his daughter Charlie to Spain because she had a Spanish lover who hated the cold.
“This is a really nice apartment , Gary,” said Cleo. “But I thought you lived in a house.”
“I bought this place for convenience, but I live here permanently now.”
“Are you having me on, Gary?”
“Don’t you believe me?”
“It looks more like a love nest to me.”
“But there’s no bird in it unless you count yourself, Cleo.”
“And this bird is about to fly the nest, Gary.”
“Drink your coffee first, Cleo. I had no ulterior motive in bringing you here.”
“When I think about it, I’m not sure I wouldn’t have been more flattered if you had.”
“Well, now you are here,” said Gary, taking off his jacket and loosening his tie. “Why don’t you relax? We are not alone for the first time and no one is going to come here and surprise us.”
“At what, Gary? I vowed there would not be any more intimacy between us.”
Cleo was still standing. Gary simply started to undress her.
“Oh, what the hell …” said Cleo.
Later, Cleo decided that she must never, ever be left alone with Gary again. She owed that to Robert.
“So what do you owe to yourself, Cleo?”
“Do you want the truth, Gary?”
“Just tell me!”
“You. Who else?”
“Robert.”
“Out of sight, out of mind, Gary.”

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