Kill Shot: A Cavendish & Walker Novel - Book 10

by Sally Rigby

‘Thank you. I’d like you to email me the CCTV footage now before we leave to make sure it gets through.’

  Chapter 10

  Back in the incident room, Whitney called everyone to attention. ‘I have some CCTV footage from the Palace Snooker Club, which the victim owned with Scott Marshall. Frank, I’m going to forward it to you. Ryan Armstrong was there on a regular basis so look for anything out of the ordinary, however small. Check to see who he was with, or if there was anyone at the club paying him particular attention. More than would be considered acceptable, bearing in mind he was famous and did attract attention.’

  ‘Yes, guv.’

  ‘Ellie, I want a thorough background check into Scott Marshall, including what car he drives and whether it can be seen on any CCTV footage close to the club at the time of the murder. Meena, you give her a hand. Brian, you said you could sort out a Zoom meeting with Dennis Blaine, the victim’s manager. Arrange it for later this afternoon. I—’

  ‘Guv, the front desk has just let me know that Rory Clarke has arrived,’ Doug interrupted, as he replaced the phone back on the desk.

  ‘Thanks. I’ll go down now.’

  ‘Do you want me with you?’ Brian asked.

  She could manage without him, but she’d been making a concerted effort to include him, so he didn’t feel marginalised. She occasionally called him Matt, after her previous DS, which didn’t go down well, and she still had a tendency to compare the two of them.

  ‘Yes. You can arrange the Zoom meeting after, this shouldn’t take long.’

  The three of them left and made their way to the interview room, with George, as usual, going to the observation area.

  As they entered the interview room, they were faced with an attractive man who looked to be in his late thirties with thick grey hair pulled back into a ponytail ‘Thank you for coming in to see us, Mr Clarke. We’re going to record our conversation. Brian, could you do the honours?’

  ‘Good work,’ the psychologist said in her ear. ‘It might appear a small gesture to you, but it will be extremely beneficial.’

  She smiled to herself and gave a tiny nod of acknowledgement.

  ‘Interview on Monday, the eighth of March. Those present: Detective Chief Inspector Walker, Detective Sergeant Chapman, and, please state your name for the recording,’ Brian said.

  ‘Rory Wayne Clarke,’ he said, in an unmistakeable Scouse accent.

  ‘I understand that you were at the Armstrong house on Saturday night. Please can you give us a rundown on how the evening went,’ Whitney said.

  ‘Sure. I got there late because I’d been detained. If you know what I mean.’ He winked at Whitney, his blue eyes twinkling.

  ‘I have no idea, Rory. You’ll have to enlighten me.’

  She had every idea but she wasn’t going to let on.

  ‘I was with a woman I met at the football match. We went back to her place. Do you want more?’ he asked, grinning.

  ‘What time did you arrive at Ryan’s?’ she asked, ignoring the question.

  ‘Just after half-eight. I got a taxi.’

  ‘What was happening when you arrived?’

  ‘They were in the middle of a game of doubles. Ryan and Kurt were thrashing Scott and Tyrone. Scott was losing his rag.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘There was two grand riding on the game, and he was fucking up the easiest of shots.’

  Why hadn’t Kastrati or Marshall told them about this? They’d implied it was a regular evening, with nothing out of the ordinary going on.

  ‘Was this usual?’

  ‘Oh yeah. No point in playing without betting on the game. It’s what we always did. Scott’s a sore loser. Always has been.’

  That explained it.

  ‘You’ve known him a long time?’

  ‘He’s my cousin. When I moved down here, he introduced me to Ryan and the others. It helped that I’m a good snooker player. Obviously not in Ryan and Scott’s league, but good enough to make a game of it.’

  ‘Was there anything unusual about Saturday night?’

  ‘Nothing. We played snooker. We drank. We ate. Exactly the same as it always is.’

  ‘Except that Scott Marshall lost his temper.’

  ‘That’s not unusual. It depends on how well he plays. He’s not consistent, and that’s why he’s never been as successful as Ryan.’

  ‘What time did you leave?’

  ‘I cadged a lift with Kurt in his Uber. It dropped him off first and then took me. Around midnight, maybe?’

  ‘Can anyone confirm the time you arrived home?’

  ‘I’m living with my aunt and uncle, as a temporary measure, so they can.’ Some of his bravado dropped away. Did he have problems?

  ‘Why temporary?’

  ‘I got into a bit of financial difficulty and lost my house. They didn’t want to see me on the streets, which I’m grateful for.’

  ‘Are they Scott’s parents?’

  ‘The other side of the family.’

  ‘Are you working?’

  ‘Yes, I’m a football agent. I run an agency in partnership with another guy.’

  ‘What does that involve?’

  It was a new one on her.

  ‘I scout talent here and overseas for the bigger clubs.’

  ‘Have you signed anyone I’ve heard of?’ Brian asked, leaning forward slightly.

  ‘I may have in the past, although recently it’s not been easy. I do have a player from Ukraine who’s currently at Aston Villa in their youth squad and have high hopes for a young lad from Poland.’

  ‘Did either your aunt or uncle see you when you arrived home?’ Whitney asked.

  ‘Yes, my aunt was up. I can give you her number if you’d like to check.’

  ‘Yes, please.’ Whitney passed over her notebook. ‘Jot it down here. Do you know of anyone who might have held a grudge against Ryan? Or anyone he’d upset in the past.’

  He paused for a moment. ‘Ryan wasn’t that type of guy. He didn’t fall out with people. He was easy-going and laid-back.’

  ‘Ask what he’s like as a player.’ George said.

  ‘Did he have a killer instinct when playing snooker?’

  ‘Oh, yes. On the table he wasn’t Mr Nice Guy. But he didn’t play dirty. He was focused and wouldn’t allow anything to distract him. He was mesmerising to watch when he was on a roll.’

  ‘Did he have any issues with other players?’

  ‘Not that I know of. Whether he won or lost, once matches were over, he was back to his usual self.’

  ‘Did you call a taxi for Scott Marshall on Saturday night?’

  ‘I don’t think so. But couldn’t say one hundred per cent. Why?’

  ‘Someone did, and we don’t know who. Can you check your call log?’

  He pulled out his phone, unlocked it, pressed some keys and peered at the screen. ‘According to this I made a call at eleven thirty-five to a number I don’t recognise. Shall I call it so we can see who answers?’

  ‘Yes, please. Put it on speaker.’

  He pressed the number. ‘Westfield Taxis,’ a woman’s voice said after several rings. He ended the call without speaking. ‘It must have been me, after all.’

  ‘Thank you. If you do think of anything that might help, please contact me.’ She handed him her card. ‘DS Chapman will see you out.’

  He’d given as much as she needed. Especially his take on Scott Marshall, which was interesting as it added to what they’d already been told.

  She opened the door for them to leave and once they had, she went into the observation room to see George.

  ‘Thoughts?’

  ‘As yet, no motive. There’s agreement among the friendship group about the nature of the relationship between Armstrong and Marshall, which isn’t out of the ordinary.’

  ‘Really? What makes you say that?’

  ‘Very often in a friendship one person is more dominant than the other. This is the case between Armstrong and Marshall. I also suspect that
Marshall, despite his outward appearance lacks confidence in his ability, hence his inconsistency and the need to prove himself. Armstrong, from what little we know, had a far more relaxed demeanour and was confident in respect of his talent.’

  ‘Do you suspect Marshall of being involved in the murder?’

  ‘It’s a hypothesis worth considering, until you ask yourself why? Without Armstrong, the club won’t be so successful, and he wouldn’t be so high profile among the snooker loving public. In conclusion, without evidence to the contrary, no, I don’t believe so.’

  Chapter 11

  ‘Where are we on the victim’s phone?’ Whitney asked when she returned to the incident room, having said goodbye to George who’d gone to the university. She scanned the room, but there was no reply. ‘Anyone? Who contacted forensics?’ Again there was silence. ‘Ellie?’

  ‘Not me. I thought someone else was going to.’

  ‘Come on, you lot. Don’t drop the ball now, this case is too important. Meena, find out about the mobile. Doug, contact Westfield Taxis and find out where they took Scott Marshall after picking him up from the victim’s house on Saturday night. Brian is our Zoom conversation set up?’

  ‘Yes, guv. It’s in fifteen minutes, in your office.’

  ‘Okay. Has anyone got anything else to report before we go?’

  ‘I’ve been looking at car hire companies and think I’ve tracked down the place that hired out the car which had been following Armstrong. They were closed when I called. There was an after-hours number which went through to a voicemail, so I didn’t leave a message,’ Brian said.

  ‘Why were they closed so early?’

  ‘No idea, guv.’ Brian said.

  ‘We’ll visit tomorrow and find out.’

  They went into her office, and she sat at her desk staring at the screen.

  ‘I’ve already been in and downloaded Zoom onto your computer. I hope you don’t mind.’

  ‘Not at all, I couldn’t have done it. Bring a chair around and sit next to me.’ She waited until he was seated, before turning to him. ‘While we’ve got a few minutes, tell me how it’s going now you’re more settled into the team.’

  His eyes narrowed slightly. ‘Good thanks, guv.’

  Had he been hanging out with George? That told her nothing.

  ‘And what about Meena?’ she asked, remembering he was less than complimentary about the DC when he’d first arrived.

  ‘I’ll admit, I misjudged her. She’s doing really well. When she was at Willesden, she wasn’t given enough opportunity to shine. I retract what I said about her, she’s fitting in well and making a good contribution.’

  That was good to hear as Whitney, too, thought Meena made a good addition to the squad.

  ‘And what about the rest of them?’ she asked, curious to hear his opinion as they could take a while to get used to.

  ‘They’re a great bunch. Occasionally a little disrespectful, but it’s done in fun and is because they’re used to working with you. Nothing I can’t handle.’

  ‘Good. Now we’ve settled into a routine, I’m very happy with the way the team is gelling. In no small part due to the way you’ve integrated into it.’

  He gave a nonchalant shrug, but Whitney could see through it. Her view mattered to him.

  ‘Let’s sign in,’ he said glancing at his watch. ‘I take it this is still the same. You speak, I listen.’

  ‘We’ll see how it goes,’ she said.

  Brian was very different from Matt and in the interests of good relations between them she was considering letting him take more of a lead in interviews. Only considering, she hadn’t yet made a final decision. It was a big step to take and nothing to do with his skills, but more because of the way she liked to work.

  They logged in and were joined by a silver-haired man sitting behind his desk. He had a deep tan, as if he’d been overseas recently. And as for his suit, it looked as if it cost more than Whitney would spend on clothes in a whole year. But that’s what she’d expect from a manager to the stars. He had an image to maintain.

  ‘Thank you for speaking to us, Mr Blaine. I’m Detective Chief Inspector Walker and this is Detective Sergeant Chapman. We’d like to speak to you about Ryan Armstrong.’

  ‘Please, call me Dennis. We were all devastated when the news of Ryan’s shooting was announced. Where are you on the investigation? Do you know who did it and why?’

  ‘At the moment, we’re in the early stages of our enquiry. We can only tell you what you’ve been told already, that he was shot and his body found in the car park beside the snooker club he owned. What we’d like to know is whether you know of anyone who held a grudge against Ryan?’

  He leant forward slightly, resting his arms on his desk. ‘Celebrities attract the attention of people who might wish to harm them. Often the celeb in question doesn’t even know they’re being targeted.’

  ‘But do you know of anyone in particular who might have had it in for him? Were there incidents in the past which might be relevant?’

  ‘Several years ago, there was a woman who was obsessed with Ryan and turned up at all of his tournaments. But after a couple of years she disappeared, and we didn’t see her again.’

  ‘So this wasn’t the stalker that he had to take out the injunction against?’ she checked, although it couldn’t be if she’d disappeared over two years ago.

  ‘This was someone else.’

  ‘How long ago did this obsession start and do you know the woman’s name?’

  He frowned. ‘It must be at least five years because I remember she was at the NEC in Birmingham when they held the Davenport Tournament, and that’s been held at the Crucible in Sheffield for the last four years. I don’t know anything about her as she didn’t ever cause a disturbance. She was just always there, staring at Ryan wherever he went. We didn’t report her to the police as we didn’t believe it to be necessary.’

  She doubted this woman had anything to do with the murder.

  ‘Have there been any incidents recently you can think of that might help us? We’ve checked with his stalker and she has an alibi.’

  ‘None.’ He shook his head. ‘Everything had been going well. Ryan was the golden boy of sport and every major company had approached us with a view to using him for endorsing their products. He was making a killing.’

  As was he, no doubt. No wonder he could afford such expensive clothes.

  ‘Did he make more money from endorsing than from playing snooker?’ Brian asked.

  He glanced at Whitney and she gave a nod, indicating that she didn’t mind him asking the question.

  ‘Absolutely. The prize money is good for the top players, but not enough to live the lifestyle Ryan did. As with most sports stars, he earnt more away from the game.’

  ‘Do you represent Scott Marshall, Armstrong’s partner?’ Brian asked.

  ‘I did, but we had to drop him as a client. He wasn’t doing very well on the circuit, and requests for endorsements had dried up because of it. He was qualifying for competitions, but rarely got further than the last sixteen. It was at a time when I’d lost one of my senior staff members and we were stretched.’

  ‘How did he take it?’ Whitney asked.

  ‘Not well. He tried to persuade me to give him another chance. I told him if his performance improved, we’d consider it.’

  ‘Did you mean it?’

  He shrugged. ‘This is business. I’m not in it for the good of my health.’

  ‘It’s a good job he’s a partner of the Palace Snooker Club, if he doesn’t earn much at snooker. By all accounts it’s doing well,’ Whitney said.

  ‘So I’m given to believe. I haven’t been there. I don’t tend to travel much out of London unless it’s overseas.’

  ‘Is there anything you can think of that might help us with the investigation?’ Whitney asked. It was like banging her head against a brick wall. No one had anything useful to assist them.

  ‘Not really. He was one of the
better sportspeople that we handled. He didn’t go crazy and, as far as I’m aware, his marriage was strong. Obviously, you don’t know what goes on behind closed doors, but we often hear rumours and I hadn’t heard anything regarding him. He was squeaky clean. This is why it was such a shock. I’m sorry, I can’t help you further.’

  ‘Can you tell me what you were doing between one and three on Sunday morning? We’re asking everybody we speak to so we can eliminate them from our enquiries.’

  ‘I was at the airport in Hawaii, my flight had been delayed. I’d been on holiday.’

  That explained the tan.

  ‘Can anyone vouch for you?’

  ‘Everybody at the airport. But if you need to see my tickets, I’ll ask my secretary to send them over. Or you can get in touch with customs, they’ll confirm it. I have another meeting in five minutes. Are we done here?’

  Whitney bristled. Who did he think was in charge?

  ‘We are for now. We may need to speak to you again.’

  ‘Sure. Get in touch with my secretary and she’ll schedule you in.’

  He left the meeting, and Whitney turned to Brian. ‘Everyone we speak to is in agreement. Ryan Armstrong was a likeable, good family man. A squeaky clean sportsman. So why was he killed? There’s got to be something we’re missing.’

  ‘Finding the man who was following him should help. Tomorrow our luck might change.’

  Whitney laughed. ‘Don’t talk about luck in front of George or she’ll give you short shrift. According to her, luck doesn’t come into it.’

  ‘Do you agree?’

  ‘Actually, no. Investigations do require an element of luck. As for coincidences …’

  ‘Don’t tell me, Dr Cavendish doesn’t believe in those either.’

  ‘Mention it in front of her and see the response. I dare you.’

  ‘Are you setting me up?’ Brian arched an eyebrow.

  ‘My lips are sealed.’ She drew a pretend zip over her mouth. ‘Right, tell the rest of the guys we’ll meet back here early tomorrow morning for a briefing, after which you and I will go to the car hire place.’

  She watched as Brian left her office for the incident room and smiled to herself.