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Gardener turned to Cragg. “Maurice, anything on Ronson?”
“Yes, sir. Ronson lives in Shipston. Seems he’s spent most of his lifetime on the right side of the law, but has skirted over to the wrong side when it suited him. He nearly always turns up to represent criminals with a drug background. If a client had no solicitor, he was always on hand.
“Robson’s biggest failing is that he’s a drunk. The most interesting thing I found out is that he’s had a history of heart problems. Seems he had surgery recently, and some say that’s why he hasn’t been seen for a while. Probably why he’s on holiday.”
“Do you know anything about the surgery?”
“No, sir. I’m only going by what I’ve managed to pick up, but I bet his secretary knows.”
“In that case, do you have an office address for him?”
“Yes, sir.” Cragg passed it over.
“Thank you,” said Gardener. “Tomorrow morning we’re paying his secretary a visit. We’ll find out exactly where he is, when he’s due back – which I believe is tomorrow, anyway – and whether or not he’s implicated in any way.”
“There is another thing, boss,” said Reilly.
“Go on.”
“If he’s had any surgery involving his heart, he could be the next victim.”
“It’s always possible, especially if he’s had an ICD fitted.”
Gardener glanced around the room. “Thornton, Anderson, got something for you. We went to see Robert Sinclair this afternoon, and he also recognised the pumps and the ICD, told us exactly what they did. He even suggested a manufacturer for us, a company called KarGen in Hunslet.
“Seems their reps are sometimes involved in unscrupulous deals, leaving free samples, and pumps being recorded as sold in one country and then turning up in another. I want you to speak to the top men and rattle some heads. As we have no serial numbers, they may well deny the pump came from them. Read them the riot act. Tell them that if they don’t cooperate, I will arrest every last one of them for withholding information in a major crime investigation. See how they like that.”
Bob Anderson’s face lit up. He was an old-fashioned copper who liked old-fashioned methods, and Gardener could tell his last statement was right up Anderson’s street. He rubbed his hands together. “Get in. I’m going to enjoy that.”
The rest of the team laughed. They may have had a tough two days, but information was beginning to filter in, and they were making headway. That always lightened the mood.
“Colin, are you still working your way through the names and addresses of the pub guests?”
“Yes, I’ve spoken to a lot of them, they’re still there. Most are train-spotters a bit disappointed about the weekend being spoiled by a murder.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” said Reilly with a couple of biscuits in his hand. “Next time we’ll try and work around them.” His comment raised more levity.
Sharp continued. “I need to speak to two more couples. Apparently, they left early.”
“Okay,” said Gardener, with the full confidence that Sharp would see it through to the end.
“There is one more thing,” said Gardener, noticing the board game card stuck to the ANACAPA chart. “We’ve had a lead on the cards.”
PC Close nodded, as much to say that he had as well.
“We got a lot more than we bargained for when we spoke to Robert Sinclair. Seems his mother used to work for Walker Brothers, a games manufacturer here in Leeds.”
“Bloody hell, I remember them,” said Thornton. “I think I had quite a few myself... still, don’t remember anything with cards like we’ve got.”
“You might not,” replied Gardener. “Sinclair’s mother used to bring him a copy of every brand-new game.”
“Doesn’t still have them, does he?” asked Thornton.
“No,” said Gardener. “At least he inferred he didn’t.”
“But you think otherwise?” asked Bob Anderson.
“Not really, Bob. You know the old saying, once a copper, always a copper. Sometimes you never trust anything that anyone says, but they can’t all be lying.”
