Devil in the Detail by A.J. Cross (love letters to the dead .TXT) 📗

some time.’ They ate in silence for several minutes. ‘Got any more ideas on the Lawrence case?’

Watts swallowed, took a gulp of coffee, shook his head. ‘Nothing that explains how he came to be gunned down and his pregnant wife half-killed, but I’m definitely considering moving the focus of the investigation from stranger-attack to it being the work of somebody who knew one or other of the Lawrences.’ He glanced at Judd. ‘And, no, I don’t have an idea who that might be.’

‘But, like me, you’re interested in this Alphon—?’

The door swung open. It was Engar’s PA again. ‘More coffee?’

‘We’re fine, thanks.’

‘In that case, Mr Alphon has arrived and he’ll see you now.’

Watts gave Alphon an evaluative look as they were shown inside the office, picking up on the confidence, the smile, plus something else: an air of entitlement. Alphon extended his hand and waved them to chairs. ‘Apologies for the wait. You want to talk to me about Mike Lawrence.’

‘Yes, Mr Alphon.’

‘All I can say is that it’s tragic. If it hasn’t already prompted West Midlands police to commit more officers to the inner city as a matter of routine, it needs to give the idea some serious consideration.’

‘Know it well, do you, Mr Alphon?’

Alphon gave him a small smile. ‘Hardly.’

‘We’re following up all possible leads and your name has come up.’

‘Oh?’ He looked from Watts to Judd. ‘In what context, exactly?’

‘In the context of there being some sort of friction between you and Mike Lawrence.’

Alphon stared at him. His head fell back and he laughed. Watts and Judd glanced at each other.

‘You think what I just said is amusing, Mr Alphon?’

‘Yes. It is. Who’s been talking to you?’

‘That’s irrelevant. The point is your boss here was planning to let this company pass into Mike Lawrence’s hands after his retirement, but Lawrence was murdered before it could happen. Got any observations on that, Mr Alphon?’

Alphon sighed, then smoothed back his hair. ‘What Seb has told you isn’t entirely accurate. Yes, he had been considering Mike running the practice but he changed his mind some weeks ago. Mike was good at the design work, but from a business point of view he was a plodder and Seb knew it. Under Mike’s management, this company would have ground to a halt. To run a company such as this requires other skills which Mike sorely lacked. I’m referring to the nurturing of existing clients, finding new ones, active promotion.’ He fixed his eyes on Watts. ‘Here’s an example of Mike’s commitment to promoting this business. Last year, Seb wanted him to go to a business fair in London. Mike’s response? He refused, saying his wife needed him at home, that they were working on their house.’

‘Which tells you what?’

Alphon adopted a patient air. ‘Detective Inspector, as a public servant, you’re probably unaware of it, but if you run a business, personal issues come second.’

Watts gazed at him, Judd’s word ‘tosser’ coming into his head. ‘When, exactly, did Mr Engar have this change of mind about Mike Lawrence?’

‘I don’t exactly recall.’

‘Try this: when did you know that Mr Engar would pass the running of this company to you?’

Alphon grinned. ‘Oh, I’d say around twenty or so years ago.’

‘How’s that?’

‘Seb is my godfather.’

Leaving the building in heavy rain, they got into the BMW. Watts was seething. Any time you thought things were different, that times had changed, you got a smack around the face with the ripe kipper of class. Privilege. What they’d learned was a clear indication of Engar’s manipulation of his employees, although where that took this investigation, he wasn’t sure.

‘That Alphon’s a real piece of work, Sarge. Smooth as sno—’

‘So is Engar. He uses employees, sets them in competition with each other as it suits him.’

Judd yanked at her seatbelt. ‘I wouldn’t trust him if he told me it was raining, unless I was outside.’

‘That was a reality check. The old “who-you-know” ways are still alive and well. I’ll ring Engar to check what Alphon just told us.’

4.15 p.m.

Traynor was in Watts’ office when they returned. Watts went to the phone, his face set. Traynor raised his eyebrows at Judd.

She kept her voice low. ‘We’ve been to the company Mike Lawrence worked for. His boss is a right git. He’d got Lawrence and another employee named Damien Alphon who, by the way, is his godson and also a git, each expecting to take over the running of the company when he retired. That’s why Sarge is on the phone. He’s checking it out.’

‘Mike Lawrence’s boss sounds like a cynic with control issues.’

‘Bang on. People have probably resorted to violence on finding out they were being used like that.’ She started as phone met table.

‘Afternoon, Traynor,’ said Watts. He looked across to Judd. ‘He’s confirmed what Alphon told us. Alphon is taking over the running of the company on Engar’s retirement, whenever that is. According to Engar, Mike Lawrence was aware of it and wasn’t upset about it. My opinion? Engar and Alphon deserve each other.’

Judd was on her way to the door. ‘That Alphon needs checking out—’

‘Throttle it back while I tell you and Traynor the rest. It wasn’t Alphon who was making that company toxic.’

‘Engar?’ said Judd.

‘Exactly. He’s your Machiavellian type. He as good as admitted it just now. He knew he had a couple of talents in the shape of Lawrence and Alphon. One creative, the other a main chancer and related. What better way from his point of view to keep both keen and productive than to create a bit of a competitive spirit between them, pit one against the other, keep both as keen as mustard.’

‘The b—’

‘As you almost said, Judd. I’ll request checks on both but I can’t see either of them shooting Mike and Molly Lawrence.’

‘How about one of them paid somebody to do it?’ asked Judd.

‘Why? It was already resolved way before the Lawrences were shot. Mike Lawrence would stick to what he did best; in time Alphon would take over the daily running