Paul Gitsham - The Last Straw

Grayson nodded in agreement and relayed Warren’s message to the voice at the end of the line. “The Mount have already released a statement refusing to comment on an ongoing investigation. I’ll draft one from us stating the same thing and reiterating that we are investigating all leads and reminding the press of their obligation not to prejudice any upcoming trial.”

He listened for a few more seconds, before closing the conversation and turning to Warren. “We’re going to try and manage this debacle as best we can. Warren, you need to wrap this investigation up asap. Make sure that conviction’s sound — the last thing we need is Severino’s lawyers tearing holes in our case. And I needn’t remind you that we have to keep the press on side. We can’t afford the bad publicity right now.” He stood up and started shovelling sheets of paper into his briefcase.

Warren nodded. “About Severino, sir, I’m not sure-”

Grayson raised a hand, forestalling him. “Sorry, Warren, it will have to wait. I have to get over to Legal and start the ball rolling on this injunction and get those press releases drafted.” He smiled tightly, showing a glimpse of humour. “I seem to spend all of my time dealing with lawyers these days. Makes me long for the days when I was chasing rapists and murderers — at least I got to associate with a better class of people.”

* * *

Tony Sutton hung up the phone with a mangled, “Grazie,” and sat back with a smug smile on his face. After a few seconds of silent self-congratulation, he got to his feet, winding his way across the room to Jones’ office.

Knocking, he entered. “Got some good news, guv.”

Leaning back in his chair, Warren eyed him. For some reason, he had a feeling that what Sutton regarded as good news might be a little different from what he regarded as good news. Nevertheless, he gestured for Sutton to continue. “Go on, Tony, good news is always welcome in this office.”

“Well, the first bit of good news is that I tracked down Severino’s fiancée. It was just as he said — she is visiting her parents in Bavaria. Before I spoke with her, I had a quick chat with a local police chief, who kindly visited her and confirmed her identity from her passport. I figured that if Severino had done something to his missus, it would be all too easy for him to give us the address of a friend who could pretend to be her.”

Warren nodded his approval. “Good thinking, Tony.”

“Anyway, once he’d done that I spoke at length on the phone to her. Apparently, they have been together for several years now and engaged for the past six months. She claims not to have heard anything about his arrest, although the murder had made the news.”

“So why didn’t she contact Severino — his boss had just been murdered. Wasn’t she even curious?”

“She says that she wasn’t sure if she wanted to speak to him. Apparently, things have been rocky between them ever since he lost his job. She said that he was drinking too much, and implied he was smoking a bit too much weed also. They had a couple of really violent arguments — she insists verbal, not physical — and she eventually decided it would be better for both of them if she went home to her parents for a few months. Apparently, she’s finishing writing up her own PhD thesis and could just as easily work in Germany as she could in the UK. It sounds as if she was going to call off the engagement.”

“Well, that certainly matches what Severino told me. It would also explain why he is so depressed. His fiancée has left him and now he’s accused of murder.”

“Well, don’t waste too much sympathy on the bastard. I’ve just got off the phone with an Italian prosecutor. It seems that our boy Severino has form.”

Warren raised an eyebrow at Sutton’s apparent glee, but said nothing.

“He’s been arrested, but never successfully convicted, several times since his late teens. Apparently, he has a bit of a temper. His first arrest was for a fight at college, allegedly over a girl. It was claimed that he broke the nose of his rival and gave him a mild concussion.”

“What happened? I can’t believe that he would be accepted onto a British university course if he was expelled from college for fighting.”

Sutton’s mouth twisted as if he’d tasted something unpleasant. “The lad he hit dropped the assault charges. There is nothing in the file about the college’s response. However, a background note attached to the file observes that his family are among the wealthiest people in that region of Italy. They are one of the biggest distributors of Italian wine in the world and are well-known philanthropists with political connections. I think you can draw your own conclusions from that.”

“OK, but a bit of fisticuffs in college hardly sets him up for murder, does it?”

“Well, that was just the first of several, similar incidents. Each time his victim dropped the charges. Each time the alleged violence was more extreme. The worst case was four years ago. He got into a fight on the way back from a football match. It was claimed that he hit a rival supporter around the head with a metal pole, sticking him in a coma for two weeks. Guy still has blackouts, apparently, and can’t work. Four witnesses initially came forward and Severino was arrested. Three days later the witnesses all withdrew their statements. Even better, the metal pole with Severino’s fingerprints on it somehow went missing from a locked evidence cabinet. His victim is apparently living a lifestyle that would appear inconsistent with somebody unemployed and living off sickness benefits.

“It seems that without any evidence the case was on rocky ground and it was decided to spare the police department’s blushes and drop the case. The original notes on all of these cases are all a matter of public record, of course, but in reality they aren’t ever going to cause him any problems.

“I’m telling you, guv, this bloke is dirty and quite capable of murder.” Sutton’s expression was a mixture of outrage at the way in which Severino had played the system and vindication for his belief in the man’s guilt. “We shouldn’t be looking to do the defence’s job for them. We need to put this bastard behind bars for a long time.”

Jones called a team meeting in one of the small briefing rooms. Pulling over a clean whiteboard, he summarised what the team had so far.

“What we know for definite was that Alan Tunbridge was murdered in his office Friday night. Saturday morning we found CCTV evidence that a person matching the description of Antonio Severino, a postdoc in Tunbridge’s lab with a grudge against Tunbridge and a history of violence, was in the building at about the time of the murder. Records from the building’s security system confirm that the person on the CCTV used Severino’s swipe card.

“After his arrest, articles of clothing stained with Tunbridge’s blood and the murder weapon were found, concealed at Severino’s property. He’s been charged, but denies the murder. Our job so far has been to tie up any loose ends and piece together exactly what happened that night.”

Jones picked up a marker pen and wrote ‘Outstanding Issues’ at the top of the board.

“First question — how did the killer know that Tunbridge would be working alone in his office late on Friday night?”

Sutton answered the question. “He was set up. An apparently fake investment company contacted him with a view to commercialising his work. They planted a fake website — now taken down — and arranged via email to telephone him at the university at ten p.m. UK time on Friday.”

Jones drew a line down the middle of the whiteboard and summarised Sutton’s response on the left-hand side. At the top of the right-hand side he drew a large question mark.