Kill Shot: A Cavendish & Walker Novel - Book 10

by Sally Rigby

‘Was Scott Marshall at the club?’

  ‘We didn’t see him.’

  The door opened, and Clifford walked in, holding a can of drink.

  ‘Are you ready?’ she asked him.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You and I will interview, and George can observe.’

  ‘I thought I might be able to interview,’ Brian said, his mouth turned down.

  ‘Sorry, not this time. We can’t have three of us in there, it would be overkill. If you’d like to observe with Dr Cavendish, you can.’

  ‘Okay, guv. Thanks.’

  The four of them went downstairs, and George and Brian stepped into the observation area while Whitney and Clifford continued to the interview room. Whitney pressed the button on the recording equipment. ‘Interview on March the eleventh. Those present: Detective Chief Inspector Walker, Detective Inspector Clifford and … please state your name for the recording.’

  ‘Glen Robert Tibbs. Now, perhaps you can tell me why I’m here, and why you came into my club pretending to be a punter when in fact you are a copper?’ He scowled in Clifford’s direction.

  ‘You’re here because we want to talk to you about Ryan Armstrong and other activities that are going on at the snooker club,’ Whitney said.

  ‘What do you mean other activities?’ He shifted awkwardly in his seat and clenched and unclenched his fists as he rested his hands on the table.

  ‘We understand that you’ve been engaged in illegal betting at the snooker club,’ Whitney said.

  Tibbs stared down at the table, not answering.

  ‘You took a bet from me,’ Clifford said.

  ‘That was a one-off,’ Tibbs said, as he glanced up at them.

  ‘That’s not the truth,’ Whitney said. ‘We’ve gone through some of the CCTV footage from the club and there were several instances of you taking bets. Not just on snooker matches, but on horse racing, too.’

  Clifford frowned in her direction. Damn. She hadn’t mentioned it to him before they’d come down for the interview.

  ‘So what? It’s not hurting anyone, and it’s not like I make loads of cash. It’s a little thing on the side that I do for the members. It adds a bit of fun, that’s all.’

  ‘What’s the highest stake you would take?’ Clifford asked.

  ‘Ten pounds max. Very occasionally I’ve gone up to twenty, but it depends on the odds. I’m not going to be out of pocket.’

  ‘Did Ryan Armstrong know about this?’

  He avoided eye contact and ran his fingers through his hair.

  ‘He’s about to tell you a lie,’ George said.

  ‘Yes, he knew.’

  ‘Are you’re sure about that, because from your behaviour, I don’t think he did.’ Whitney said, a flat tone to her voice.

  ‘Okay. Ryan saw me taking a bet once and said it wasn’t to happen again because it could damage the club’s reputation as it wasn’t legal.’

  ‘But you still continued doing it. Why?’

  ‘Scott knew, and he said as long as it didn’t get in the way of me doing my job he’d turn a blind eye.’

  ‘So, what you’re saying is that Ryan and Scott, despite being partners, differed in what they allowed you to do?’

  ‘Yes, but it wasn’t anything major.’

  ‘It’s illegal,’ Clifford said. ‘That does make it major. Now, what about in terms of players throwing matches? Were you aware of when this was going to happen, and did you take bets on these matches, or place them yourself at a local bookies?’

  He looked askance at them. ‘What the hell are you talking about? I have nothing to do with any match-fixing, nor does it happen at our club. All I do is take a few bets on the side for matches or other sporting events that are going on. You can’t start blaming something like that on me. My job is to keep the customers happy, and that’s what I do.’

  ‘They’d do better online,’ Clifford said.

  ‘Except those bets can be traced. My way, anyone who bets and wants to make a few quid can keep it a secret.’

  ‘If we ask Scott Marshall will he confirm that he permitted you to engage in this activity?’ Whitney asked.

  ‘Not if it gets him in trouble. He’s more concerned with not rocking the boat for himself.’

  ‘Meaning?’

  ‘Out of the two partners, he’s the one you have to be careful of. He always has deals going on, and not all of them are above board.’

  ‘And Ryan wasn’t like that?’

  ‘He was straight and trusting. Probably too trusting. He couldn’t even see what was going on under his nose. He …’ His words fell away.

  ‘He’s wishing he hadn’t said that,’ George said.

  ‘Carry on,’ Whitney pushed.

  ‘It’s nothing to do with any illegal betting. It doesn’t matter.’

  ‘We’ll decide what matters, and if you want to get back to the tournament, you’ll answer our questions.’

  He laid his hands flat on the table and looked over at her, a nervous expression cloaking his eyes. ‘Look, you didn’t hear this from me, right? Naomi, Ryan’s wife, and Scott Marshall are having an affair.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘I spotted them in a pub car park together a few months ago. They didn’t know I was there. It wasn’t a pub I usually frequent. They’re still seeing each other, I’m sure.’

  ‘Have you seen them together since?’

  ‘Naomi occasionally came to the club when Ryan wasn’t there, but Scott was, pretending she was looking for her husband. Then she’d spend some time with Scott out in the open, so it looked as if they were friends, but I knew what was going on. You could see the looks that were going on between them.’

  ‘Does anyone else at the club know?’

  ‘Not from me. I know when to keep my mouth shut. What I don’t get is why she’d want to be with Scott. Ryan could give her a great time. The travel. The holidays. The lifestyle. Scott’s nothing without his wife’s money and, knowing him, he’d never leave her.’

  ‘That’s all conjecture,’ Whitney said.

  ‘Can I go now? I need to get back. I’ve told you everything I know.’

  ‘Returning to your illegal betting operation, it has to stop now, or we’ll take it further and arrest you,’ Clifford said. ‘Consider this to be a warning.’

  ‘What about the bets I’ve taken for the tournament?’

  ‘Return the money.’

  ‘Great,’ Tibbs muttered. ‘What I’ve told you about the affair. I don’t want to lose my job. Don’t tell Scott you heard it from me.’

  ‘We’ll do what we can to keep you out of it but can’t promise. One of my officers will take you back to the club. Wait here.’ Whitney ended the recording and left the room, with Clifford behind her. She went next door to the observation area.

  ‘Brian, take Tibbs back to the club. Tomorrow we’ll visit Naomi Armstrong and find out more about this affair. You needn’t come with us for this one, Sebastian.’

  ‘Because?’ he said looking at her.

  ‘I can’t see this affair being anything to do with your enquiry.’

  ‘We don’t know that for sure.’

  ‘In view of the fact that she’s just lost her husband, it would be unfair for us to go in mob-handed. I think it’s best if George and I go and we’ll report back to you and the rest of the team. If the affair was the motive, it means your syndicate has nothing to do with it and the case remains ours.’ She forced back a smile. As much as she thought he was an okay bloke, she’d be far happier when he’d left Lenchester and returned to the Met.

  ‘If that’s how you want to play it. You’re SIO.’

  Was he annoyed? If he was, he’d get over it.

  ‘What are you going to do now?’

  ‘I’m going to prepare a report for my superior officers. That will take the rest of the afternoon and into tomorrow.’

  ‘Good. I assume you’ll be sending me a copy.’

  ‘This is for my boss’s eyes only.’
r />   Chapter 22

  Whitney’s eyes were glued to the large retro-style metal clock on the kitchen wall. The hands seemed to have stuck. Had it stopped working? Should she change the batteries?

  ‘Mum, give it a rest,’ Tiffany said. ‘You’re not going to make him arrive any quicker. You’re making me nervous. Have a drink or something. Anything, just stop staring at the clock. You’re not going to make the time go any faster.’

  ‘I don’t need one. I’m sorry. I’ll be glad when he’s here, and I can settle.’

  Since arriving home and the reality of what was about to happen had hit her, she’d been going back and forth in her mind, wondering whether it was the right thing to do. It was such a massive decision that Tiffany had made, and Whitney didn’t want to have forced her into it.

  ‘Look, it’s going to be fine. We’re just going to meet and get to know each other.’

  Since when did Tiffany get to be so adult. Surely, Whitney should be the one reassuring her. She walked over to the cooker and gave the chilli a stir. Should she put the rice on now or wait until he arrived? She’d do it now. It would give her something to do. She reboiled the kettle, went to the cupboard and took out the rice, measuring it into the saucepan.

  ‘Aren’t you nervous, even a little bit? I’m impressed with how laid-back you’re being.’

  ‘Of course, I am, but I’m going to take it as it comes.’

  Maybe there was more of Martin in Tiffany than she’d realised. In fact, the more she got to know and like him, the more she could see him in her daughter. But she wasn’t going to share that with Tiffany. Not now. It wasn’t the right time. They had to take it one step at a time. She wished she’d asked George to come round and they could have chatted while Tiffany and Martin were together.

  ‘Good idea,’ Whitney said, nodding.

  ‘Don’t worry, we have another five minutes before—’

  The doorbell rang, interrupting them.

  ‘He’s here. He’s early. I’m going to let him in. Are you sure you’re okay? I can tell him to go, I—’

  ‘Mum, go.’

  ‘Should we sit in the kitchen or go into the lounge?’

  ‘We’ll stay in the kitchen, as we’ve got to eat and it’s almost ready.’

  ‘Good idea. Maybe you should go to the door and let him in, while I stay here getting it ready,’ Whitney suggested.

  ‘No, I’m like a beached whale and I’m not budging,’ Tiffany said, patting her stomach.

  ‘Right. Okay. Stupid suggestion.’ She hurried out of the kitchen and to the front door. When she opened it, Martin leant in and kissed her on the cheek.

  ‘How are you?’ he asked.

  ‘I’m fine. Fine. Yep. Fine.’ She nodded her head so vigorously it was in danger of falling off.

  It was ridiculous that she held down a high-powered job, managed a team of officers, and was responsible for taking criminals off the street, yet here she was acting like a child.

  ‘You’re all over the place,’ he said, resting his hand on her arm. ‘You know, it’s going to be okay?’

  ‘Yes, I do. Tiffany’s said the same. It’s just me. Come on in.’ She opened the door further so he could step inside.

  ‘Something smells nice.’ He sniffed.

  ‘Chilli. The only dish I can make which doesn’t get spoilt, unless I forget it’s on and burn it. That’s happened on more than one occasion, but I’ll save those stories for another time.’

  He held out a bottle of white wine. ‘Is this okay?’

  She glanced at the label. ‘Lovely. It will need chilling for a while before we open it.’

  ‘I took it from the fridge at the supermarket, it’s still cold,’ he said, his brow furrowed.

  She laughed. ‘I’ve been hanging around with George for long enough to know that between buying it and arriving here, its temperature will have increased.’

  They headed through to the kitchen, and she took a deep breath. Tiffany stood when Martin walked in and smiled.

  ‘Hello, Martin, I’m Tiffany.’ She held out her hand.

  ‘Hello, Tiffany.’ He stepped towards her and shook it.

  It all sounded very stilted. Whitney opened the fridge and placed the wine on one of the shelves.

  ‘Can I get you a beer or something?’ she asked, enjoying the coolness from the open fridge on her face. She hoped she wasn’t blushing. That would be embarrassing.

  ‘I’ll wait for the wine.’

  ‘It won’t be too long.’ She closed the fridge door.

  ‘Mum, open it now.’

  ‘It has to be at a certain temperature so we experience it as it should be.’

  ‘So George says. But seeing as she isn’t here and you know nothing about wine and can’t tell one spice from the next, why don’t you open it and live dangerously.’

  Martin laughed, and the tension eased from her body.

  ‘You’re right. But don’t tell George.’ She opened the bottle and poured a glass for Martin and herself, and gave Tiffany an apple juice. Whitney turned her back on them and focused on stirring the chilli.

  ‘Tell me a little about yourself,’ Martin said.

  ‘As I’m sure Mum told you, I was at university studying engineering and then decided to take some time off and go overseas to Australia because I felt a bit stuck. Now I’ve had some time out I’ve decided that once I’ve had the baby, I may go back and finish my degree.’

  Whitney stirred furiously. She hadn’t known Tiffany was planning to return to study. That pleased her an awful lot. She’d deliberately not approached it with Tiffany because she didn’t want to be one of those mums who put unnecessary pressure on their kids.

  ‘So, engineering. What got you into that?’

  It would be the bridges. It had always been bridges from when she was as young as three and had her first Lego set. No dolls for her. It was bricks and cars all the way.

  ‘I’ve always been fascinated by buildings and bridges. I especially love bridges.’

  Whitney smiled to herself.

  ‘You do? Me too,’ Martin said. ‘If you could name a bridge anywhere in the world to visit, which one would it be?’

  What the … He loved bridges. What a coincidence. Sorry, George.

  ‘I’ve always wanted to see the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco,’ Tiffany said, a wistful tone to her voice.

  ‘You’d love it. It’s an amazing feat of engineering. When I was there, I spent hours simply staring at it. I took hundreds of photos. I’ll show them to you, sometime.’

  ‘Thanks. I’d love to see them. Have you seen the Harbour Bridge in Sydney? It was awesome. I went with my friend, but she didn’t appreciate it. It didn’t stop me enjoying it though.’

  ‘Yes, I’ve seen it. There aren’t many famous bridges I haven’t visited. And I agree with you, it’s incredible. Did you see it at New Year when they have the fireworks display?’

  ‘Not in real life as I was back here. I’ve seen videos of it though. Millions of dollars of fireworks. Did you do the bridge walk when you were there?’

  ‘I did. Not for the faint-hearted. Some people struggled, but it was amazing to see the construction so close.’

  ‘I know. I did it twice and thought about applying for a job as one of the guides, but my friend didn’t want to move to Sydney and by that time I’d met Lachlan.’

  Whitney tried to concentrate on serving up dinner, but it was hard listening to them talk. It was like they’d known each other forever.

  ‘Dinner’s ready,’ she said, bringing the plates to the table, trying to act all nonchalant, while inside she was a mess. A good mess, though.

  She sat at the head of the table, opposite Tiffany, and Martin sat between them.

  The conversation between the two of them flowed, and Whitney hardly spoke. She was surplus to requirements.

  ‘Anyone for coffee?’ she said once they’d finished eating.

  ‘I’ll have a decaf please,’ Tiffany said.

&nb
sp; ‘Same for me,’ Martin said.

  ‘You two go into the lounge and I’ll bring it in.’

  She waited until they’d left the room, filled the kettle and grabbed the phone, hitting speed dial for George.

  ‘Whitney?’

  ‘I’ve got to tell you,’ she whispered, not wanting Tiffany and Martin to hear. ‘This is going amazingly well. Better than I could have ever imagined. It’s like they’ve known each other for ages. Who’d have thought it? Don’t answer that because you’ll come out with something logical. And you’ll never guess what, they’ve both got this mad passion for bridges. Coincidence or what?’ She giggled, not sure whether it was because of her joke or from the relief of everything going so well. She suspected it was a bit of both.

  ‘I’m exceptionally pleased for you. I know how worried you were.’

  ‘Thank you. I feel fit to burst I’m so happy and I wanted to share it with you. I’d better go as they’re expecting coffee. Can you come in tomorrow morning so we can visit Naomi Armstrong?’

  ‘We’ve already arranged this.’

  ‘Have we? Oh yes. Sorry. My head’s all over the place. I’ll see you tomorrow and fill you in on how the rest of the evening goes.’

  Chapter 23

  ‘Did you see Clifford’s face as we left?’ Whitney asked George as she drove into the heavy morning traffic towards Pennington Grove where Naomi Armstrong lived. ‘I don’t think he was too happy about being left behind, even though we’d discussed it all yesterday.’

  ‘You could have gone with him instead of me, although it wouldn’t have been a good use of his time, considering the affair is a different issue to his.’

  ‘Exactly. I didn’t want him with me, anyway. He might be good at investigating syndicates, but this is murder. You have much more to offer. Although I will admit that from what I’ve seen so far, I’m quite impressed, considering he comes from the Met and you know what officers from there can be like.’

  ‘I have no idea, but I’m sure you can enlighten me.’

  ‘Full of their own self-importance. Look at Brian. Okay, he’s all right now. But, you know, they think if they say they trained and worked at the Met it makes them somehow better than the rest of us. And let’s not forget Dickhead. His few years there made him even more obnoxious than he was before, if that’s possible. And as for his let’s go for a drink comment to Clifford, what was all that about? Knowing Douglas, probably because of Clifford being a viscount.’