Ask No Questions

by Hartley, Lisa

  ‘The bullet entered his left temple, and we know he was left-handed. It could be suicide, but …’

  ‘But it’s murder,’ Caelan said.

  ‘They’re going to take the car into the lab, investigate it fully. I’ve told them I want results as quickly as possible, and screw the cost.’ She ran a hand through her hair. ‘I’m not hopeful, but we have to check.’

  She was interrupted by a knock. She checked her watch. Penrith muttered, ‘And behind door number one …’

  ‘Come in,’ called Beckett. Adele Brady appeared in the doorway, followed by Tim Achebe. As Caelan got to her feet, Brady saw her expression.

  ‘Surprised to see us?’

  Caelan lifted her chin. ‘How’s Michael?’

  ‘Fine when I saw him last.’ Brady grinned at her, and realisation dawned.

  ‘You were the surveillance.’

  Brady gave a gleeful nod. ‘I was part of it.’

  ‘You slept with him? That’s commitment.’ Caelan raised her eyebrows, and Brady laughed.

  ‘We didn’t have sex.’

  ‘A comfort to his wife, I’m sure.’

  ‘Not my problem. Come on, Caelan, you’ve done it too. It was work. He’s not my type.’

  Beckett clapped her hands. ‘Enough. Caelan, I’d like you to go through the CCTV footage, as you discussed with Ian.’

  Caelan nodded, picked up the tablet again. Closed her mind to everything except the images rushing by on the screen.

  It was fifty minutes later when she stiffened, scrolled back, and watched again. She tapped her finger against the screen, tears in her eyes.

  ‘Bastard. You utter shit.’ She stood, raised her voice. ‘We’ve got him.’

  31

  When Caelan emerged onto the street, rain was falling. She lifted her face to the sky, relishing the coolness for a second, before running for the car parked across the road.

  ‘Evening,’ Ewan said. His tone was courteous, but without warmth.

  ‘I’m sorry. I was … Well, I was out of order.’

  He nodded, his face grave. ‘Forgotten. You’re armed?’

  She patted her hip. ‘Let’s go.’

  Caelan was surprised how matter-of-fact she sounded. The discovery she had made a few hours before had rocked her, shaking the foundations of what she had believed. She had been wrong, and the realisation had hurt. Now, though, she was focused, fully engaged with the role she had been offered.

  The sky was dark; the early evening air felt charged. Caelan knew that the sensation was caused by the usual pre-operation fear sending adrenalin skittering through her veins, giving the illusion of heightened senses and invincibility.

  That illusion was dangerous. Fear was a friend, as she had been told early in her career. It kept you sharp, alert. Ewan had said the same when talking about his time in the army.

  She smoothed a hand over her forehead, a few strands escaping the ponytail she had coaxed her hair into before leaving Beckett’s underground bunker. Ewan tapped his fingers against the gearstick.

  ‘You’re sure about this?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘He’s killed … what? Four people?’

  ‘At least.’ Caelan swallowed. ‘It’s okay, he won’t hurt me.’

  ‘Know for sure, do you?’ Ewan shook his head. ‘At least you have the gun.’

  But would she be able to use it on him? If her own life was threatened, perhaps. Otherwise …

  She leaned back, not wanting to think about it. It wouldn’t be necessary anyway. She would have backup – Ewan, and others. Her safety wasn’t the issue here. Justice for Nicky, Charlie and the other victims was.

  The journey seemed to take no time at all. Ewan looked at the building, raised his eyebrows.

  ‘Wonder if he’ll be more welcoming tonight?’

  Caelan grinned at him. ‘Why shouldn’t he be? Brady’s not here.’

  As she got out of the car, she touched the gun at her hip and glanced up again at the sky. She didn’t believe in heaven or hell, but who knew what else was out there? Logically, scientifically, she knew Nicky couldn’t see her, wouldn’t be looking out for her. The instant her heart and brain had ceased to function had been the end of Nicky’s love. Yet Caelan looked at the stars and remembered her. She hoped she was right; she wanted to draw a line under this.

  Time to move on.

  She stepped up to the door and knocked without giving herself time to think about it. Immediately, he was there, opening the door and peering around it, his face quizzical.

  ‘Caelan? Another visit?’

  ‘Michael.’ Caelan looked into his eyes and smiled. ‘We need to talk about Richard.’

  * * *

  ‘When did you first suspect him?’ Nasenby crossed the kitchen, set a bottle of water on the marble table in front of Caelan and handed Ewan a glass of orange juice.

  ‘Honestly? A few hours ago. You know Beckett has had people checking everyone’s finances, poking around to see what we’ve been up to?’

  Nasenby pulled a face. ‘I’d guessed.’

  You mean Brady told you. Whispering the secrets Beckett wanted you to know. ‘Well, one of her people found out that Richard had bought a house up north somewhere, near his parents. No recent credit checks, no mortgage. No lump sum taken out of a savings account either. He lives in a shitty little place in Kentish Town, but this was a modern house he’d bought off plan. How?’

  Nasenby rubbed his chin. ‘Inheritance? Gift from his parents?’

  ‘They’re retired, barely managing. In fact, Richard sends them money each month.’

  ‘A loving son.’

  ‘Like Charlie Flynn, Ronnie Morgan.’ Caelan paused, gave the names space to breathe, to settle. Nasenby was nodding.

  ‘I’ve noticed Richard wearing expensive suits, a different watch …’

  ‘Exactly. Nothing too flashy, but they’re new. Could be as innocent as a bank loan or an increased credit card limit, but we’ve checked. Nothing.’

  ‘Cash transactions then.’

  Caelan nodded. ‘We’ve even got some footage of him buying shoes in Harvey Nicks. He paid in notes.’

  Nasenby leaned back in his chair. ‘Didn’t know you could. Thought it was invitation-only credit cards all the way in there.’

  Caelan laughed. ‘I began to wonder where the money had come from. Then there’s the camera footage.’

  ‘What footage?’

  ‘When Lambourne attacked Nicky, the camera kept recording, even as she lay there dying.’ Caelan’s throat caught as she said the words, but she forced herself to continue. Now was not the time to let emotion derail her. She needed Nasenby to listen, to understand. ‘It’s obvious when you think about it, but for a while, no one did. Unacceptable, but mistakes happen, as we all know. When they played it back, they thought it was useless at first. Grainy, dark – looked like the bottom of the sea. There was sound, but the visuals were shit.’

  ‘Then you got one of the tech geniuses on board.’ Nasenby was nodding, already one step ahead.

  ‘And he managed to clean it up. Not much, admittedly, but enough to be able to make out a figure.’

  ‘Richard Adamson.’ Nasenby blinked at Caelan. ‘I can’t believe it.’

  ‘Neither could I. A man I’d worked closely with, had trusted with my life. But, as they say, the camera doesn’t lie. Did you hear about the shooting?’

  ‘Glen Walker? Yes. The same gun, I was told. The one that killed Charlie and Ronnie Morgan.’

  ‘The one used to shoot at us the other day. The one used to shoot at me earlier.’

  Nasenby stared at her. ‘You’ve been attacked again? Christ, Caelan—’

  She waved his concern away. ‘Glen Walker apparently killed himself, filled with remorse because of his role in the death of Charlie Flynn and everyone else. Case closed with no loose ends.’ She picked up her bottle of water, cracked the seal and drank. ‘But we know it’s not the truth. We know Walker and Lambourne didn’t kill Charl
ie Flynn. In fact, Walker didn’t kill anyone.’

  ‘Lambourne did. You saw him.’

  Caelan nodded, acknowledging the point. ‘We found Walker’s body in his car. We’ve had preliminary forensics back.’

  ‘Already?’ Nasenby whistled. ‘Must be a record.’

  ‘Brady’s shitting a brick about the cost, but it was necessary. We need answers, and we have to be sure before we arrest anyone.’

  ‘What did forensics say?’

  ‘There were no fingerprints, at least none we weren’t expecting. Walker’s own, mainly. But they found a hair.’ Caelan shrugged. ‘Doesn’t mean much on its own, of course.’

  ‘A decent defence would explain it away. Easy to obtain a hair and plant it.’ Nasenby nodded.

  ‘So we looked around for any cameras in and around the area where Walker’s car was found. Also the place where I was shot at today.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘Inconclusive on their own. But if you add a couple of the stills to the evidence of increased cash flow, the hair and the images from the camera Nicky was wearing, a clearer picture begins to emerge.’ Caelan took the tablet computer from her bag, laid it on the table. She drank some more water, her throat tight. Once she had shown Nasenby the proof, there would be no going back. These weren’t accusations anyone would forget. Beside her, Ewan shuffled in his seat, no doubt sensing her tension.

  Nasenby smiled. ‘Show me.’

  Caelan picked up the tablet. ‘This is the footage from Nicky’s camera. I’ll scroll through until the time we’re interested in. The first part is … distressing.’

  Nasenby gulped, moving to stand beside Caelan. ‘I’m sure.’

  Caelan touched the screen. They watched the shadow flit across the screen, all three wincing at the sound of the gunshot. Nasenby had paled.

  ‘Was that …?’

  ‘The shot that killed Charlie Flynn, ten minutes after we first thought he’d died? Yes.’

  Nasenby’s Adam’s apple jerked in his throat. ‘God, Caelan. I can’t believe it.’

  ‘I know. I couldn’t either at first. So I watched again. Then I blinked a few times, had a walk around the room and a cup of coffee, and watched it through again. On the third viewing, I noticed something else.’

  Squinting at the screen, Nasenby frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Let’s have a look.’

  Nasenby shuffled closer as the footage played again. ‘I’m none the wiser, Caelan.’

  ‘Okay. Watch carefully.’

  ‘Can’t you tell me? We could be here all night.’

  ‘One more time. I’ll point it out.’

  ‘Fine.’

  This time, as the shadowy figure flitted into view, Caelan tapped at the screen, freezing the picture. ‘There. Do you see?’

  Nasenby was clearly growing frustrated. ‘What? I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.’

  She pointed. ‘There. It’s faint, very faint, but there’s a tiny glint. I spotted it, asked the technician to work on it a little more.’ She brought up another image, a still. ‘There. Now do you see?’ As Nasenby shook his head, Caelan looked up at him, smiling. ‘I know it’s difficult to make out, but we’re fairly certain. It’s a wedding ring.’

  ‘But Richard’s not married. He doesn’t wear one.’

  ‘No. But you do.’

  32

  Caelan set the tablet on the table, her other hand resting on her gun. ‘It was you, Michael. You shot Charlie Flynn and Ronnie Morgan. You killed Glen Walker and,’ she swallowed, ‘you murdered Sam.’

  Nasenby stared at her, then burst out laughing. ‘You’re delusional. Why would I do that? How could I have killed Ronnie Morgan? I was talking to you when it happened.’

  ‘No you weren’t. You called Ronnie’s mobile when you were still talking to me, using a different phone. We were still at the station. You lured him to the underpass, and shot him. You knew I’d be following, but also that I’d be keeping my distance. If you waited inside, you could step out in front of Ronnie, shoot him and get away. I don’t know the details, but that’s how it happened. You’ve been clever, Michael, but not clever enough.’

  Nasenby’s hand whipped out, grabbing Caelan’s throat. Immediately, white light exploded before her eyes, a humming filling her head. This was not how it was supposed to go. Ewan leapt to his feet, his chair clattering to the floor behind him. ‘Don’t bother, or I’ll kill her now,’ Nasenby told him. ‘Are you armed?’ Caelan managed a nod. ‘Hand me the weapon.’ She did so, not daring to risk anything clever. Best to try and talk him down. Nasenby took the gun in his free hand, glanced at it. He turned, smiled at Ewan, and shot him in the chest. A cry escaped Caelan’s lips as Ewan fell, cracking his head on the marble table as he disappeared beneath it.

  ‘Now look what I’ve done. Shame, he was a nice chap.’ Nasenby grinned. ‘Now, tell me what you know.’ He removed his hand from Caelan’s throat but jammed the gun against her temple. Caelan’s knees had liquidised, her mind screaming. Ewan. He’d shot Ewan, and she was to blame. She had suggested this approach, attempting to catch Nasenby out, make him think they believed Richard Adamson was guilty. Now she realised that it had been naïve, foolhardy.

  And Ewan had paid the price.

  Nasenby cracked the gun against her temple, his other hand seizing her throat again. He squeezed. ‘Well?’

  Caelan forced herself to choke out the words. ‘You were the one instructing Walker. He followed Ewan and me, shot at us outside the Wheatsheaf, all under your orders. Your hair was found in Walker’s vehicle. We’ve got CCTV from one of the houses on the road where you shot him. It shows you getting out of the car.’

  Nasenby laughed. ‘Come on, Caelan, that’s pitiful.’

  ‘The wedding ring.’

  ‘Because I’m the only person in London who wears one.’ He laughed. ‘Christ, I knew you were slipping – I didn’t realise how far.’

  ‘You were in Sam’s flat. You left fingerprints, Michael. Amateurish. But then if you’d gone in there wearing leather gloves, Sam would have smelt a rat. You don’t like people who fight back, do you?’

  Nasenby released his grip on her throat to slap her face with such force the room darkened for a second. He grabbed the front of her shirt, almost lifting her off her feet. ‘A bulletproof vest? Won’t save you when I blow your head off.’ He shoved the gun under her chin, then lowered it, tracing a line between her breasts. ‘Maybe I should do it now?’

  Choking on the blood gathering in her throat, Caelan kept talking. ‘Seb Lambourne had been paying you for years for information. We never caught up with him, because you made sure we couldn’t. Then you decided to be rid of him for good. Maybe he threatened you with exposure, we don’t know yet.’ Nasenby stared at her, shaking his head, his eyes wild. ‘You suggested a kidnapping plot. Did you tell him it would be an easy way of making some cash? Make him a major-league criminal? Either way, it backfired. Lambourne panicked when he saw us, armed police. He wasn’t expecting us. He killed Nicky so he and Walker could escape. You were sitting outside, waiting for the rescue operation to take place. How did Lambourne and Walker get away?’

  Nasenby smirked. ‘Wouldn’t you like to know?’

  ‘You helped them.’

  ‘I left a van with the keys in it nearby. They hid in the back and waited. I drove them away later.’

  Caelan blinked. ‘It couldn’t have happened like that. We were watching every vehicle; every house was under observation. We searched every property on the street.’

  Nasenby’s laugh was scornful. ‘We did, but I might have missed something in the adjoining property. Those druggies living in the squat next door wouldn’t have realised if Father Christmas had turned up in their living room. A quick change of clothes, and the guts to try it. There was a hole in the wall between the two properties, up in the attic. It’s bricked up now, of course. Loose ends need tidying up, after all. Isn’t that why you’re here?’

  ‘I don’t belie
ve you.’ Caelan was swaying, her ears ringing, her nose leaking blood. He hadn’t said enough, not yet. ‘Half the Met was out there – the helicopter, dogs …’

  ‘It’s the truth. You think the cordon was watertight?’

  ‘It should have been.’

  ‘An army of people could have got away from there without being seen. It was chaos, especially once they knew the boy was dead.’

  ‘You mean, when you killed him.’

  Nasenby shrugged. ‘Like I said, the house was empty until forensics arrived. Sam was a big help, though.’ He grinned at Caelan. ‘He knew how to keep his mouth shut, drunk or not.’

  Hating him, Caelan resumed her summary. ‘When you found out Nicky was dead, you had to act quickly. You knew Charlie was alive, but drugged. In the confusion, you rushed in and killed him. Why, Michael? Why did you do it?’

  Pain exploded in her skull as Nasenby smashed the gun against it, releasing his grip so she fell to the tiled floor. Blood running down her cheek, she pushed herself to her knees, knowing she had to stand if she could. She was too vulnerable on the ground. Nasenby saw her struggling and drew back his foot. The kick to her kidney sent new shockwaves of pain hurtling through her chest, radiating across her back. Nasenby chuckled, her agony amusing him. Caelan twisted her body, turning onto her side, panting, spitting blood onto the floor. She caught sight of Ewan lying on his back under the table, and, gripped by fury, she forced herself to her feet. Nasenby watched, a mocking grin on his face.

  ‘Have you finished your fairy story yet, Caelan?’

  She staggered, holding onto a chair for support. ‘I assume Charlie had seen you, could have identified you. Lambourne and Walker fled, knowing you’d set them up. With their records, who’d believe that a high-ranking police officer had told them what to do? Then you heard a whisper that Lambourne was back. You couldn’t take the chance. You killed his son as a warning.’

  Nasenby sighed as if she was boring him. He stepped forward, slapping her face again. ‘Rubbish.’

  Caelan gasped, her ear ringing. He was going to kill her. She had to keep going.