‘We almost certainly have a case of arson on our hands,’ said Vogel, before giving Hemmings a brief rundown of everything he had so far learned concerning the fire.
Hemmings listened carefully.
‘There’s little doubt then, we need to set up a murder inquiry,’ he said eventually.
‘Yes boss,’ responded Vogel. ‘And we need a full rundown on the Fairbrother family and the family business, as soon as possible; everything that’s known about Sir John’s children, and everything we can find out about the bank, its financial history, its status today, and so on. Can we get a team to give this top priority? Two people have died in mysterious circumstances, boss. If we can work out why they were killed, then, with a bit of luck, we’ll be well on the way towards identifying those responsible.’
Only when the call ended did Vogel realise how much more confident he must have sounded than he felt. This was not going to be a straightforward investigation. All he could do was take it stage by stage.
He turned to Saslow.
‘Right, Dawn,’ he said. ‘We’d better get ourselves over to the Musgrove and see if we can have a word with George Grey.’
Two
Grey was awake and sitting propped up against the pillows of his curtained hospital bed when Vogel and Saslow were shown into his ward at Taunton’s Musgrove Park hospital. His eyes were red rimmed, and his distress obvious. His right shoulder bore a heavy dressing and there was a cradle keeping the bedding from resting on his left leg.
But Grey was in a far better condition than Vogel had expected, given the description of his condition by senior fire officer Bob Parsons, a man obviously not unfamiliar with serious injury.
The ward sister who escorted Vogel and Saslow to Grey’s bed had confirmed that his injuries were stab wounds of some sort, but that they had not turned out to be as severe as at first feared.
She also promised to find the casualty doctor who had treated Grey. He might, she suggested, be able to explain further.
Vogel introduced himself to the injured man and sat down on a chair to the left of his bed. Saslow remained standing, to the right.
George Grey was probably in his early forties, Vogel judged. He had dark curly hair, vibrant blue eyes, and full sensual lips — an unusual looking man who might have been considered classically handsome were it not for a somewhat sallow complexion and a crooked nose that had probably been rather badly broken at some stage.
‘The old man, he’s dead, isn’t he?’ queried Grey at once.
Vogel nodded. ‘We believe so,’ he said. ‘His body has yet to be retrieved, but we know that both Sir John and his nurse were inside the house when the fire broke out, and that there have not been any survivors.’
Grey’s narrow shoulders slumped. His full lower lip trembled.
‘That wasn’t supposed to happen,’ he muttered.
‘I’m sorry, Mr Grey?’ queried Vogel.
Grey said nothing more, his expression indicating that he might regret what he’d already said.
‘What wasn’t supposed to happen, Mr Grey?’ Vogel persisted.
‘I’m just sorry, that’s all,’ said Grey. ‘I tried to help, you see. I tried to get to him. But I couldn’t do nothing. I couldn’t get through.’
‘Mr Grey, I need you to tell me exactly what happened, and what you witnessed in the early hours of this morning,’ Vogel began.
‘Yeah, sure,’ responded Grey, in what Vogel, himself a Londoner, considered to be an unusually strong Cockney accent nowadays.
Vogel waited. But Grey failed to continue. Instead he slumped further back against his pillows and closed his eyes. Clearly, he was not going to volunteer any information if he could help it.
‘Mr Grey,’ Vogel prompted, raising his voice. ‘I realise you must be feeling unwell, but I am conducting a murder inquiry. You can either answer my questions here or at Taunton police station. But you really have to cooperate.’
There was no way, of course, that Vogel could insist on taking George Grey anywhere in his present condition. However, his empty threat seemed to do the trick.
Very slowly, Grey opened his eyes. ‘A-all right,’ he muttered falteringly. ‘What do you want to know?’
‘For a start, when were you first aware that fire had broken out at the manor?’ asked Vogel.
‘Not until Sophia, the nurse, phoned me,’ Grey replied. ‘I had no idea until then. It was the middle of the night, or it felt like it anyway. I was at home, in bed with the wife. Anyway, there wasn’t much to see before the gas tank blew.’
‘And I understand you told Sophia that she and Sir John should stay where they were, in his bedroom, because it was fire proofed. Is that so?’
Grey nodded. ‘Yes. And Sir John wasn’t good on his feet. I thought they would be safer.’
‘You also told her that you would try to get to them, to assist them?’
‘I did.’
‘But you didn’t dial 999, did you?’ Vogel enquired.
‘Well no, I knew Sophia was going to do that.’
‘And did you set off immediately to go to their rescue?’
‘Pretty much, yes.’
‘Yet, there is another 999 call from Sophia, logged thirty-four minutes later, at 2.05, in which she says you had yet to get to them.’
‘Well, I couldn’t get through, could I? There were intruders, with guns I’m almost sure, proper big guns, rifles, or maybe shotguns. I told Sophia that.’
‘When she called you a second time?’
‘Yes.’
‘But, why didn’t you call her as soon as you thought there were armed intruders on the premises?’
‘I was watching, wasn’t I, waiting for an opportunity to get into the house. I hid in that clump of rhododendrons by the side of the pond.’
‘How many intruders were there?’
‘I don’t know, I saw at least three. Maybe four.’
‘The manor is protected by large electrically operated gates, Mr Grey. How did these people get in?’
‘The storm, it damaged the electrics. I managed to open the gates yesterday, but I couldn’t close them again. In any case, there was a bloody great oak tree across the drive, nobody could drive in. They must have been on foot.’
‘But you didn’t notice the arrival of these intruders, even though you say you were at home in The Gatehouse at the time we can assume they arrived at the manor. Is that right?’
‘I told you, I was in bed asleep. With my wife.’
Vogel glanced at Saslow. It was her invitation to join in.
‘You are in hospital suffering from what appear to be quite serious injuries, Mr Grey,’ she said. ‘Would you please tell us how you came by these injuries?’
‘Yes, I was attacked, by the men with guns I told you about. The armed intruders, as you call them.’
‘And would that have been before or after you received the second call from Sophia, Mr Grey?’ asked Saslow.
‘After. I wasn’t in no condition to be having telephone conversations afterwards, I can tell you. In fact, even though I had my phone on silent, and I barely spoke above a whisper, I think it might have been that call that alerted them to me being close by.’
‘It would seem that, during that last call, you still told Sophia that she and Sir John shouldn’t move, this time because there were armed intruders on the property. Is that correct?’
‘Yes, he’s an important man, Sir John. I mean was. His sort always has enemies. He always said he felt secure at Blackdown. But I was afraid they may be after him. That they’d started the fire in order to smoke him out so that they could kill him. That’s what I thought, anyway...’
Greys voice tailed away.
‘Any idea who they might have been, Mr Grey?’
The injured man shook his head.