"Well, up to a point. He had to have met Fitzpatrick, so he knew who he was—he could have blown the whistle on him."
Anna sighed. "Gordon, can you hop it? I need to go over Honour Nolan's statements and type up the report."
"He's just been released. No charges."
Anna looked up as Gordon strolled out. "Damien Nolan's been released?"
"Yeah, he was waiting for a taxi in reception." The door closed behind Gordon.
Anna sat down again. She didn't want to, but she couldn't help thinking about what Gordon had said. In reality, Damien had to have known who Fitzpatrick was.
She got up and opened the door. "Gordon!" she called as he was just turning into the main corridor. "I asked you to check on Damien Nolan's background, birth and marriage certificates."
Gordon hesitated. "Shit, yes—I'm sorry, I was going to get onto it but Phil wanted me to do something."
"Do it now, Gordon. Thank you."
She closed the door and rested against it for a moment. She then
checked her watch; she knew by the time she had typed up her report and filed it, she wouldn't get out of the station until early evening.
Unlike any other case she had worked on, when coming to the conclusion had always been a high, this felt quite the contrary. Fitting all the jigsaw pieces together at long last should have been a very positive feeling, but the one vital piece was still missing. If Fitzpatrick wasn t captured, it would always remain incomplete.
CHAPTER 25
The following morning, as the team prepared the wrapping up of the case, Anna submitted her report from the previous evening. They still had a list of interviews to be completed, along with various charges, but, to all intents and purposes, the case was closing. Obviously, the search for their prime suspect, Alexander Fitzpatrick, would be ongoing but, even without him in custody, the cases would go for trial.
Honour Nolan was taken before the magistrates; she was not granted bail, due to the gravity of the charges leveled against her, and was taken to Holloway Prison. Adrian Summers was to await trial at Brixton Prison. They were minor players in comparison to Fitzpatrick, but they would still have to pay the price of their association with him.
The incident board was testament to the complexity of the inquiry; just how many hours of police work had gone into the investigation was obvious. No matter that so many loose ends had been tied up, it was still an unsatisfactory end to a long investigation. Although they did have the drug haul, and they were able to knit together the events from the night Frank Brandon was murdered, charges against his killer were still in the pipeline.
The photographs of the victims were being taken down and boxed, ready for the trials:
Frank Brandon: shot by a lowlife drug dealer who mistakenly believed he had been at the Chalk Farm drug squat to make an arrest
Donny Petrozzo: murdered because of his attempt to force Fitzpatrick into cutting him in on the deal, with an overdose of Fentanyl
David Rushton: murdered, again by Fitzpatrick, because of his association with Julia Brandon and his movement of her funds, with an overdose of Fentanyl.
Julia Brandon: murdered by persons unknown but possibly the men connected to Fitzpatrick's drug deals, her car brakes tampered with, resulting in a head-on collision
Julius D'Anton: possible death by his own drug addiction and use of Fentanyl, but also connected to Fitzpatrick
Sandra D'Anton: murdered by unknown assailants connected to Fitzpatrick; the suspects were still at large, but one of them had been identified from the thumbprint taken from her neck
Whether or not Fitzpatrick was still in the UK was doubtful, but the FBI were keen to continue their search for him, and placed him high up on their Most Wanted lists. The U.S. side were also still searching for the two henchmen.
Anna and the team were to wind up the investigations by interviewing Doris Eatwell, to ascertain how much she was involved with protecting her son, Alexander Fitzpatrick, and allowing her premises to be used to hide the crates of Fentanyl. Due to her age, she was not to be held in custody, but she could face charges.
When Anna went to see Cunningham to sort out the interview, she found her sitting with her head in her hands, crying.
Cunningham took a tissue from a box on her desk and blew her nose. "I've had some bad news. I won't be here for a few days."
"I'm sorry."
"My partner collapsed last night and is in hospital. They have found another tumor and ..." She had to wipe her eyes before she could continue. "If you could hold the fort for me, until I have time to make other arrangements ... DCS Langton is still overseeing the final stages but, until the trials, we are obviously required to see what loose ends we can iron out."
Anna felt that having not traced Fitzpatrick was more than just a loose end, but she didn't think it was the time to bring it up.
She returned to the incident room and joined Phil. "I suppose you've heard: Cunningham is not going to be around for a few days."
"Yeah, not that it's that much of a loss. She's been at half-mast since this inquiry started."
"The duty manager's got the details. I'll take the trip to Oxfordshire to interview Mrs. Eatwell; you keep on wrapping up here." Anna also wanted to question Adrian Summers again to double-check a couple of things from his statement.
As Anna was returning to her office, Gordon approached. "Damien Nolan: I don't have a birth certificate registered, but I've got a marriage license—register office in Oxfordshire, dated 1984, to Honour—says his date of birth is eighteenth March, 1958, but there is nothing else. He has a passport—"
"Then you have to have a birth certificate, don't you?"
"Well, I've not traced one yet."
"Never mind, we can have another attempt later. I want to get over to Brixton Prison and interview Adrian Summers; and then we'll drive to Shipston on Stour to see Mrs. Eatwell."Adrian looked dreadful. Eyes red-rimmed, unshaven; his face already had a prison pallor, even though he'd only been inside a few days. "My parents have been in to see me," he said, almost in tears.
"I just need to ask you a few more questions," Anna said.
"I don't know anything else, I swear to you."
"It's just that I am unsure about one small thing: the note we found in the Mitsubishi." Anna waited, but Adrian just looked at her. "It had directions to the farm in Oxfordshire."
"Yeah, well—I didn't know where it was."
"Who gave you the directions?"
Adrian looked confused.
Anna sighed. "We know you drove there; you have admitted taking the drugs to the farmhouse."
"Yes, I said that I did."
"So who gave you the directions?"
"I think it was the man you call Alexander Fitzpatrick. I swear I didn't know who he really was—I've said this."
"My problem is, the note is not in his handwriting."
"Then I dunno, I can't remember."
Anna sighed. Gordon glanced at Anna; he couldn't fathom out what was so important about the note. Anna tapped her foot with impatience. "Come on, Adrian! Did Fitzpatrick just hand this note to you?"
Adrian scratched at his head. "Okay, I loaded up the jeep. As best as I can remember, Mr. Collingwood—"
"You mean Fitzpatrick?"
"Yeah, he was shutting up the tailgate and he was telling me to drive carefully, as the last thing he wanted was me to be pulled over for speeding—well, it's obvious why. He gave me some money to fill up at a petrol station, which I did; it was the one midway down the M40."
"So he just passed the directions to you?"
"No, he gave them to me before—he said the farmhouse was hard to find. I was to follow the directions and not miss the small lane, as it was badly lit around there."
"So he had this note with the directions for you?"
"Yeah, that's right."
"Did you see who gave the note to Fitzpatrick?"
"Mr. Nolan wrote them out for him."
"Damien Nolan?"
"Yes, he lives at the farmhouse with Honour, his wife."
"So you saw Mr. Nolan?"
"Not really. He drove up and they talked for a bit, then Mr. Nolan scribbled the directions and handed them to—"
"Where did this take place?" she interrupted.
"It was on the boat. It was the day we drove to Gatwick, but in the morning, quite early. Like I said, he didn't come aboard, he just drove down the jetty and they met and he handed over the directions."
"Thank you," Anna said.
Gordon glanced at her; she was packing her notebook away. She then stood up and asked for the prison officer to open the interview-room door.
"Is that it?" Adrian asked.
"Yes, Mr. Summers, that is all I came here for."
As Anna unlocked her Mini, she couldn't help but smile. She had known all along the note was of importance, even though Langton had dismissed it.
"Go on, Gordon, ask me," she said as she reversed out.
"Well, I can't quite fathom out the importance of whether or not Damien Nolan wrote the note. We know that he did, because it's his handwriting, right?"
"Because, Gordon, Mr. Nolan has walked with no charges. He claims he knew nothing, saw nothing, and heard nothing, like the proverbial monkeys—but he has lied. He claims not to know Alexander Fitzpatrick. He claims the note could have been written at any time; he also claimed that he couldn't even recall writing it! We now know he was not only in London, but also knew of the boat anchored at Chelsea harbor. He passed the note on the day Fitzpatrick and Adrian Summers picked up the drugs from Gatwick Airport." Anna glanced at Gordon. "Do you understand now?"
Gordon looked blank.
Anna slapped the steering wheel with the flat of her hand. "Mr. Nolan is in this entire setup, Gordon! Until now, we never had any proof of just how involved he was. He must have known exactly what was being picked up, and known that they were going to store the drugs at his farmhouse."
"What are we going to do?"
Anna said nothing as she drove through Brixton toward the M40.
"Shouldn't we relay this back to the incident room?" Gordon asked.
"I'm not ready yet."
Gordon made no reply; he found it hard to get a handle on what Anna was intending to do, and he also found her attitude egotistical, to say the least. But the conversation was halted, as she put on Radio 4, and continued to drive.
Anna parked in the small lay-by at the side of Mrs. Eatwell's cottage in Oxfordshire. There was a Ford Fiesta parked up, with a police logo, and ribbons flapping around the garage from the scene of crime search.
When Anna knocked, the door was opened by the family liaison officer assigned to Mrs. Eatwell, who was under house arrest. Wendy Hall was a pleasant rotund officer, who immediately asked if they would like coffee, and ushered them into the kitchen.
"Where is Mrs. Eatwell?"
"She's resting. She doesn't really come down but for her breakfast, and then stays up in her room, reading the papers."
"How is she holding up?"
Wendy laughed. "She's a feisty old lady, but half the time I don't really think she is aware of how serious her situation is. I've tried to explain to her that she will be charged with allowing her premises to store the drugs."
Anna sat at the table as coffee brewed. "She's also going to be charged with perverting the course of justice, and allowing her son to stay here, because she was obviously aware of exactly what he was up to."
"She won't hear a word said against him,"Wendy said as she fetched cups and opened a biscuit tin.
"Has Damien Nolan been here?"
"He came by last night, brought sausages and some ham and vegetables. She adores him; gets all flirtatious when he's around her. I have to say, he is very charming and seems to genuinely care for her. He told her that Honour was in Holloway, but that he would be able to look out for her."
Anna sipped the piping-hot coffee—she really needed it—while Gordon tucked into the chocolate creams. Wendy sat down with them and, like Gordon, wolfed down biscuits. She told them how she was working on a shift with another officer, as Mrs. Eatwell was not to be left alone. She said that most evenings they had supper together. Damien had joined them the previous evening; they had even opened a bottle of wine.
"She spends hours looking over her photo albums: she's had quite a life . Two marriages, both with very handsome men and both younger than she was. Her first husband divorced her over an affair with an army officer, the second died about five years ago of cancer. As you can
see, the cottage has been renovated within an inch of its life; all mod cons and central heating." Wendy chatted on as Anna finished her coffee, then asked if she could see some of the photo albums. Gordon helped himself to a fresh cup and more chocolate biscuits as Wendy brought in four leather-covered albums. "Is Damien related to her, do you think?"
"Mr. Nolan? She has never mentioned it if he is. She doesn't really talk much about recent events, or her son; she closes off if you bring up his name. She mostly talks about the past: she was a real beauty with flame-red hair, and quite a snazzy dresser. From what I've gathered, Honour took great care of her; she didn't appear to want for anything."
Anna listened, turning over the pages of the album. Mrs. Eatwell had indeed been a very attractive young woman. There were shots of her by various cars and on holidays with a young boy, smiling and waving into the camera. A couple of pages were filled with photographs of a man whose face had been scratched out, and others of a good-looking man holding a tennis racket. Wendy said that it was her late husband, Henry Eatwell.
Anna began to flick through the pages until there were more recent photographs: Damien standing smiling with his arms around Mrs. Eatwell, Damien in a Panama hat, drinking on a balcony somewhere; many of Damien and Honour together, some with a small white terrier, others with Mrs. Eatwell in a group. There were also numerous photographs of Alexander Fitzpatrick as a young child and teenager; even one when he was wearing a mortar-board and gown. Like his mother, Alexander had been very good-looking in his youth; there were many photographs of him in various poses with cricket whites, tennis shorts, always smiling and laughing. There were a few of Julia Brandon, one with a baby in her arms and another with a toddler, but there seemed to be no recent pictures of Alexander.