Kill Shot: A Cavendish & Walker Novel - Book 10

by Sally Rigby

  ‘Are you sure you want me here with you?’

  ‘Quite sure. You’re the go-between. You can interpret what he says.’ George glared at her. ‘Joking,’ she said, holding her hands up in mock surrender. ‘It’s just, you know what it’s like being around people like him.’

  ‘You have an extremely unfounded and biased view of people who’ve had a different upbringing from you.’

  ‘Leave me with my own little prejudices, I haven’t held it against you, have I?’

  ‘Not now, but when we first met you were decidedly judgemental and—’

  A knock at the door interrupted her.

  ‘He’s here,’ Whitney said lowering her voice, and standing. She smoothed down her trousers, which had wrinkled at the knee. Next to her, George also stood. ‘Come in.’

  The door opened, and Whitney clamped her mouth together. Whoa. He was one of the tallest men she’d ever seen, and very solid in stature. He filled the doorway. Not only that, his angular jaw and dark hair and eyes made him most striking.

  ‘DI Clifford, guv,’ Meena said, appearing positively tiny standing next to him.

  ‘Thank you, Meena. You can go now.’ She glanced up at Clifford. ‘I’m DCI Walker and this is Dr Cavendish. George. She’s a forensic psychologist who works with us on our more serious cases, of which this is one. Come on in.’

  ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you both,’ he said, stepping inside the office, and flashing a disarming smile which caught her unawares. ‘Is there anywhere around here that I can get a good cup of coffee and a Danish pastry? I missed breakfast.’

  Whitney glimpsed at George. He’d passed the first test.

  ‘There’s the canteen downstairs and the coffee isn’t too bad. Well, not for me. George, what’s your opinion as you’re far more discerning than me in that respect?’

  ‘It’s passable.’

  ‘High praise indeed. Let’s all go, and we can discuss the case,’ Whitney suggested, as she could do with a coffee, even though it had been less than an hour since her last one.

  ‘That sounds like an excellent idea,’ Clifford said.

  As they left Whitney’s office and were heading down the corridor towards the lift, she found herself sandwiched between them. It was like being in Land of the Giants. Clifford even towered over George. He had to be at least six feet six or maybe more.

  ‘How was the journey up here?’ she asked, making small talk, knowing that George wouldn’t.

  ‘There was an accident on the M1 which is why I’m late. I’d intended arriving between eight to eight-thirty, but there was almost an hour’s hold-up because the motorway was down to a single lane. A lorry had shed its load.’

  ‘That’s a pain,’ she said. ‘But at least you finally made it.’

  They went into the canteen and Clifford paid for coffees and a Danish for each of them. He was certainly getting off to a good start. But she wasn’t going to be complacent, as he could be using it to put her off guard, and then he’d jump in and try to take over.

  She was being paranoid. Which was ridiculous. She was the senior officer, and should know better.

  They sat at a round table in the corner far away from the other people in there, so they had some privacy.

  ‘Let’s talk about the case,’ he said, demolishing half of his pastry in a single bite. ‘Mmm. This is good.’

  ‘When I spoke to you yesterday, you refused to disclose anything related to your meetings with Ryan Armstrong. Can I take it that, as you’re here working with us, we are now going to be informed of the relationship between the two of you?’

  Clifford leant back in his chair and studied her, not in a threatening way, but more like he was deliberating before answering. Was it that confidential?

  ‘What I’m about to tell you goes no further.’ He looked from Whitney to George, as if wanting confirmation.

  ‘That’s not possible. My team needs to be kept in the picture or they won’t be able to work on the case. Keeping them in the dark isn’t an option.’

  ‘How many are there?’ The expression on his face was unreadable. Was he about to relent?

  ‘There’s Brian Chapman, my sergeant and—’

  ‘Chapman? I know that name.’

  Brian said they weren’t acquainted. Had he been lying about that?

  ‘He trained at the Met and spent several years there. He mentioned that he knew of you but said you wouldn’t know him.’

  ‘I didn’t ever meet him, personally, but I remember coming across his name on several reports. There was one relating to a drug bust in Enfield on July the eighteenth, 2015. I was collecting information on one of the charged. He also filed a report on March the fourth 2018 following a police chase which he was part of. And—’

  ‘You remember every report you’ve read?’ George asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Do you have a photographic memory?’ Whitney asked. She’d love to have that ability. She could put it to so many good uses.

  ‘There’s no proof that it exists,’ George said. ‘I suspect what DI Clifford has is HSAM. Highly superior autographic memory. It’s exceptionally rare.’

  ‘You’re right. Well done. That’s exactly what I have. Most people have never heard of it.’

  ‘This is George we’re talking about,’ Whitney said. ‘What she doesn’t know isn’t worth knowing. How does HSAM work exactly?’

  ‘I’m able to recall events from the past in great detail, and can tell you when and where they occurred. Do you want to know what I had for lunch this day a year ago?’ He gave a wry smile.

  ‘Wow. It would be so cool to have that talent,’ Whitney said.

  ‘Be careful what you wish for. Some things a person has no desire to remember. Although, I admit it can be useful, if channelled correctly.’

  ‘Like when studying for exams?’

  ‘It does help with recall, but exams are far more than a regurgitation of facts. Applying and evaluating the knowledge is paramount, and that’s a completely different skill set. But we digress. Who else is on your team?’

  ‘I have four detective constables, Frank Taylor, Ellie Naylor, Doug Baines, and Meena Singh. They’re a loyal and conscientious bunch, and I trust them implicitly to keep confidential what we discuss with them. Ellie’s a brilliant researcher and a great asset. You won’t find better.’

  ‘I’ll second that,’ George said. ‘Her skills are extraordinary.’

  ‘Good, she’ll be useful. What you’re asking is that including the two of you we allow seven people in our investigatory bubble. That’s a lot to manage. One small slip and the whole operation could go tits up.’

  She didn’t mention that it was eight if you counted the super.

  ‘Think of us as one,’ she reassured him. ‘You have my word there’ll be no leaks from any officers in the squad.’

  ‘It appears I don’t have an option but to go along with it.’ He sniffed his coffee and took a sip. ‘Not bad. I can certainly live with it while I’m here.’

  Which hopefully wouldn’t be too long, even if she was warming to him. A little.

  ‘See, George. What did I say?’

  ‘I haven’t disputed that it’s drinkable, but it’s not the best you can get.’

  ‘George seems to forget that this is a police station and we don’t have the budget for the best you can get.’ Whitney laughed, and Clifford cracked a smile as well. ‘Back to our discussion, why were you meeting with the victim?’

  He put his mug on the table and leant back in the chair, keeping his eyes fixed on her. ‘We’re investigating a syndicate in southeast Asia who are involved in match-fixing in snooker. Betting is huge in sport and having advance notice of an outcome is extremely lucrative. Sportspeople are regularly approached to fix matches. They’re offered money to do so, but if they refuse, it can be very dangerous. There have been family members killed when a sportsperson has refused to comply with what’s requested.’

  ‘In our country?’

&nbs
p; ‘Death threats and killings have taken place in parts of Asia, but it’s only a matter of time before it happens here.’

  ‘So this group from overseas will ask someone to throw a match and then put large amounts of money on the person or team they know will win?’ Whitney asked.

  ‘It’s not just the outcome of a match. People will bet on anything, even two drops of rain running down a windowpane. Take football, where manipulating play is common. It’s not unusual for people to bet on players getting sent off. The bet would specify a time frame and the name of the player. So, for example, a player could be told to get themselves sent off within the first fifteen minutes of a match. There are all manner of things to bet on.’

  ‘And it’s the same in snooker?’

  ‘It’s extremely prevalent in snooker. Most professional players will be approached at sometime in their careers to throw a match. Armstrong was clean, but there are some players who will take bribes to fix matches. It’s easier if both players have agreed, but even if only one does, it’s still possible to engineer outcomes. During my meetings with Armstrong, we’d agreed he would give us inside information about what was going on.’

  ‘Had he provided you with any before he died?’ George asked.

  ‘A little, but it was early stages as I hadn’t been working with him for long. It took a while to get it off the ground because I had to convince him to help. He knew the potential risks.’

  ‘Yet, despite having a wife and young child, he agreed. And you were okay with that?’ Whitney asked.

  She’d only just met the man, but he didn’t come across as the sort to put an informant in danger.

  ‘I’ll be honest, the risks we’d envisaged weren’t life-threatening. More the affect it might have had on his career.’

  ‘But you said that family members had been killed in Asia. Surely you must have thought of that?’ Whitney said.

  ‘It didn’t seem pertinent. Our meetings were very low-key and I had no idea we were being watched.’ A pained expression crossed his face.

  Guilt?

  ‘Had Armstrong been approached to throw any matches in the past?’

  ‘Several times, the most recent being last year and he’d turned them down. He couldn’t give us any information about the people who approached him because it was all done very clandestinely.’

  ‘Were there any repercussions after he refused to take the bribe?’

  ‘None that we know of. I don’t want to give the impression that there are repercussions for everyone who refuses to take a bribe and fix a match, because there aren’t. It’s rare, but that doesn’t mean it won’t become more common.’

  ‘Does match-fixing take place during major sporting events?’

  ‘Not usually. If anything, it’s the less popular events which syndicates focus on. In football, preseason matches are often targeted, as they don’t attract media attention. It’s much easier to fix something then. It’s been known for whole teams to be in on it, and they’ll use a friend or family member to bet on the outcome for them. Like I said, it’s rife.’

  ‘Do you feel responsible for Ryan Armstrong’s death?’ Whitney asked.

  Judging by his double take he was surprised that she’d asked but he’d get used to her forthrightness.

  ‘We’re not yet in the position of being able to apportion blame. That’s why I’m here so we can investigate what has happened. But what we don’t want is for other members of the snooker community to know that he was working with us.’

  ‘Could he have told anyone what he was doing, like his wife or business partner, and it got back to the syndicate?’

  ‘There’s always that risk, but he was instructed not to mention it to anyone, and he agreed. He knew there were risks, so why take any unnecessary ones. He didn’t strike me as that type of man.’

  ‘It might have been discovered by accident. William Palmer, the PI who’d been paid to follow him, reported your meetings to the people who had engaged his services. If these people belong to the same organisation you’re targeting, they may very well be responsible for the shooting.’

  ‘That’s my thinking, especially if they know who I am.’

  ‘They do because Palmer told us, and he would have told them.’

  A shadow crossed Clifford’s face. ‘We want to clean up the sport but not at the expense of Armstrong’s life.’

  He showed compassion. Whitney approved.

  ‘Once we’ve finished here, I’ll introduce you to the team, and then we’ll bring Palmer back in. You and I will interview him, and George will observe, feeding back to us throughout, which will assist in the questioning. Is that okay with you?’

  Why did she ask? Was she seeking his approval?

  ‘You’re in charge.’

  ‘Yes, I am,’ she said, allowing herself a tiny smile.

  She pulled out her phone and called the desk sergeant, asking him to instruct uniform to pick up Palmer and bring him in.

  ‘In the interest of openness, I need to let you know that my boss wants me to bring the case back to the squad,’ Clifford said, once she’d ended her call.

  He wormed his way into her good books, and then he dropped that on her. Did he think she was that gullible?

  ‘Why?’

  ‘If there’s proof that Armstrong’s death was a direct consequence of working with me, then my department should take over the case as we have all the information relating to the organisation who could be responsible.’

  ‘This is my case, and you should be passing that information to me.’

  ‘For now, we’ll work on it together. The higher-ups will decide what happens based on what we discover over the next few days.’

  ‘We’ll see about that,’ Whitney muttered under her breath.

  Chapter 17

  After their chat in the station canteen the three of them headed back to the incident room. George had been surprised at how well Whitney was dealing with having Clifford join them on the case. From his actions, it had seemed that he’d already got the measure of Whitney, until he mentioned taking the case back to the Met. That wasn’t a good move on his part. He’d learn very quickly that Whitney would not give up without a fight. But, watching them together was interesting from a psychological perspective.

  They walked into the room, where the team were busy at their desks and Whitney called them to attention. ‘This is DI Clifford from the Met. He’s here to help us with the case. Before his death, the victim had just begun working as an informant for his squad and—’

  ‘That fact is to be kept within these four walls,’ Clifford interrupted.

  ‘Everyone here is fully aware of the need for discretion,’ Whitney said, her voice flat. ‘The squad is investigating an international syndicate who they believe may have infiltrated the country in various sports with a view to influencing outcomes of matches so large bets can be placed. Armstrong was going to help on the snooker side.’

  ‘You mean players throwing matches?’ Frank said.

  ‘Match throwing is the main area we’re investigating, although bets are made on more than just the outcomes,’ Clifford said.

  ‘That was Frank, over there is Brian, Meena and Doug,’ Whitney said, pointing to each one in turn. We’re bringing Palmer in again and DI Clifford will be interviewing him with me while Dr Cavendish observes. While we’re gone, Ellie, look at the interaction between Palmer and this go-between he mentioned. He might have been paid cash, but there has to be some way of pinpointing this man. Doug, I’ll forward you the email that’s just come through from Armstrong’s stalker. She was writing a biography about him and has sent me the manuscript and her notes. Take a look for anything which might help.’

  ‘Yes, guv. By the way, I got in touch with Westfield Taxis and the driver who took the booking made from Rory Clarke’s phone is away in Spain until next week.’

  ‘Couldn’t the office tell you anything about the job? Aren’t the journeys all monitored nowadays?’

 
‘It seems his app wasn’t working, so he was going old-school on the radio. As far as the records show, he was dropped at home, but we won’t know for certain until the driver returns.’

  ‘Okay. Meena, the victim’s phone?’

  ‘It wasn’t in the car.’

  ‘That means it’s missing. Find out the last time it was used, and where. Brian, where are we with the alibis for the other men at the party?’

  ‘All corroborated, guv. An email has also come in from the pathologist. No drugs in Armstrong’s system, but the amount of alcohol in his blood would have put him over the limit.’

  ‘Thanks, Brian. So, whatever it was that took him away from his house, must have been important.’ Her phone rang. ‘Walker.’ She nodded. ‘We’ll be there shortly.’ She ended the call. ‘Palmer’s here.’

  Whitney forwarded the email to Doug, and they left to go downstairs.

  ‘Please, call me Seb. There’s no need for DI Clifford,’ he said as they were on their way.

  ‘Noted,’ Whitney said. ‘For the record, I’m guv, not ma’am.’

  ‘Yes, I realised that from our conversation yesterday.’

  George headed into the observation room. Palmer was fidgeting in exactly the same way he had in the previous interview. Clifford walked in first and pulled out the chair on the left.

  ‘I sit there,’ Whitney said.

  He nodded and sat in the chair beside her. Whitney leant across him and started the recording.

  ‘Interview on Wednesday, March the tenth. Those present: Detective Chief Inspector Walker, Detective Inspector Clifford. Please state your name.’

  ‘William Lewis Palmer. You know that from before.’

  ‘And this is another interview and procedures have to be followed.’

  ‘Why have you brought me back in? I told you everything I know.’

  ‘DI Clifford has joined to help with the investigation. You know him, of course, because you were following Armstrong when they met.’

  ‘Yes, that’s right, I did.’ Palmer nodded at him.

  ‘Where were you situated at the time I was meeting with Armstrong?’ Clifford asked.