An Eye for an Eye (Detective Kate Young)

by Carol Wyer

  Bang! A door slammed, and the corridor swam out of focus. A frosted glass door marked ‘First Class’ materialised before her. She blinked away the mirage. The gunman on the train, William, Dickson and her. They were linked in some way, just as Ian and Alex were.

  Downstairs, Emma was in the office, hunched over Ian’s laptop.

  ‘You got past the security?’

  ‘For some weird reason, it wasn’t password protected. I’m surprised, especially as he was into porn . . . Look what else I’ve found.’

  Kate traversed the small space and studied the page advertising the Cindi Kaufer Escort Agency website.

  ‘He visited the website yesterday morning,’ said Emma.

  ‘That’s a coincidence we can’t ignore. Talk to the people who run this agency and get hold of Ian’s profile. I want to know if he ever went out with Rory.’

  ‘Will do. Oh, and for the record, he had no cleaner, so he either had OCD, as Faith suggested, or the killer cleaned up the apartment.’

  ‘Right. One of Ian’s neighbours, Hayley King, thought she saw somebody hanging around in the early hours, around 2 a.m. Might want to talk to her. She lives on the ground floor.’

  ‘I think she gave a statement to one of the officers. I’ll double-check.’

  ‘Cheers.’

  Kate heard Morgan way before he appeared as he thundered up the stairs and along the corridor.

  ‘Someone’s in a bad mood,’ remarked Emma, as the floor shook in time to his footsteps.

  Morgan halted by the door, face set in a scowl. ‘Bradley refuses to let me question him. Bastard says he’ll only talk to the boss.’

  Kate got to her feet. ‘Then let’s hear what he has to say for himself.’

  Bradley remained motionless on his seat, arms folded, legs apart and feet planted firmly on the floor. He didn’t acknowledge Kate when she and Morgan entered the interview room. She greeted him regardless and slid on to the chair opposite him. Morgan sat down beside her.

  ‘I don’t want him here,’ said Bradley.

  ‘By “him”, I take it you are referring to DS Meredith, and he’ll be staying here during this interview.’

  ‘Then I don’t have anything to say.’

  Kate pushed back her chair and rose in one swift movement. ‘Fine. I won’t waste my time. DS Meredith, will you caution Mr Chapman, please, and have him removed to the cells?’

  Bradley extended his arms. ‘Whoa! Hang fire. I only wanted to talk to you in private. I don’t need cautioning.’

  She paused. ‘I take it you wish to continue this interview?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then DS Meredith will remain present. Are we clear?’

  ‘Yes, all right.’

  Kate resumed her position. ‘Do you know why you’re here, Mr Chapman?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Do you wish to contact a lawyer?’

  ‘It won’t be necessary.’

  ‘Then I’d like to remind you this interview is being recorded.’ She pointed to the camera in the corner of the room. Bradley grunted. ‘Let’s begin, then. I’d like to discuss your whereabouts on Thursday the third of June between 11.00 a.m., when you left Sierra Monroe, and 1.30 p.m., when you picked up Charles Seagar for his driving lesson. Your wife believes you were with a lover for some of that time.’ Kate let her words sink in.

  Bradley wasn’t thrown by this accusation. His response was a quiet ‘I know she does. She had it out with me earlier.’

  ‘Were you?’

  ‘No. I wouldn’t hurt Gwen.’

  ‘She said you have had affairs in the past, all of them with driving-school students.’

  He shook his head. ‘They were a few meaningless flings, not affairs, and they happened a long time ago, shortly after I left the army. I confessed to them and we put them behind us. I’ve not cheated on her since.’

  ‘Did you tell your wife where you were between 11.00 a.m. and 1.30 p.m.?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘I made a promise to somebody.’

  ‘Mr Chapman, I don’t need to remind you this promise is likely to land you in deep water. Is it worth going to jail over? Is it so important you’d be prepared to abandon your wife, daughter and grandchildren and do time? Tell me, who you are protecting?’

  He stared at her with eyes the colour of an ice fjord, and answered, ‘I was with Cooper between eleven and twelve o’clock. After I left him, I drove to Brown’s Café, as I told you, and then on to Cannock for the lesson.’

  ‘Where were you both?’

  ‘At his place. After her driving lesson, I dropped Sierra outside her house, took a phone call and, soon after she’d left for work, I spotted Cooper in the garden, so I got out and talked to him.’

  ‘I was led to believe he works on Thursdays.’

  ‘He took the day off because he was feeling under the weather.’

  ‘What was wrong with him?’

  ‘Depression. He’s been suffering from it for a while. He was having a bad day.’

  ‘Where is Mr Monroe at present?’

  ‘I honestly don’t know.’

  ‘You’re making this difficult for us.’

  ‘That’s not my intention. I have no idea where he is. The fact remains, I was with Cooper Thursday morning and nowhere near Alex’s house at the time he was killed. I did not visit him that morning and . . . I don’t think you have any evidence to prove to the contrary. I know you won’t have found any DNA or my fingerprints, purely and simply because I . . . wasn’t . . . there.’ The ex-military man was back, eyes glittering dangerously. He’d told her what she wanted to know and was currently on the defensive.

  Kate changed tack. ‘Do you know Ian Wentworth?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Have you heard his name? Maybe Alex mentioned him.’

  He shook his head. ‘Never come across him.’

  Kate pushed forward a photograph of the surgeon taken from the Little Aston hospital website. ‘Are you sure?’

  Bradley studied it for a whole minute. ‘I’ve never seen this man before.’

  ‘You looked at the photograph for a long time.’

  ‘I was trying to work out if he’d booked me for a driving lesson, but I’ve not met him, and his face isn’t familiar.’

  Kate drew the photograph back across the table and set it aside. ‘Where were you last night, Mr Chapman?’

  He blew out his cheeks then gave a resigned sigh. ‘I was with Cooper.’

  ‘Mr Monroe again!’ She deliberately paused, weighing him up, like a cat with a mouse. ‘You were with Mr Monroe last night, yet today you have no clue as to his whereabouts.’

  Bradley didn’t blink, eyes trained on hers. ‘I don’t know . . . where . . . he . . . is. Fact.’

  ‘Okay, let’s assume you don’t know. Did he drop any hint or tell you he was planning to go away?’

  ‘Yes. He said a few days away might help clear his head.’

  ‘He didn’t tell you where he intended going?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Has he vanished before?’

  ‘Not vanished. He often takes time out for a few days. We’ve even gone off together, fell walking or trekking around Snowdonia National Park. It harks back to our training days. Guys like us sometimes need to get away from ordinary life and be at one with nature. Cooper was in a bad place mentally and needed to sort himself out. He’ll be back in a day or two.’

  ‘Do you happen to know why he was feeling so low?’

  ‘I’m not a shrink. I didn’t delve into his mind. We all get down at times, don’t we?’ He stretched his beefy neck to the left and then right until it cracked. Kate could imagine him and Cooper fighting together, comrades in arms. There was undoubtedly a lot he was hiding and, moreover, would never divulge.

  Morgan piped up. ‘You said you were on the phone before spotting Mr Monroe in his garden. Who were you speaking to?’

  ‘A client. He rang to rearrange a driving lesson b
ecause he had the flu.’

  ‘If we check your phone records, will I be able to establish that fact?’ Morgan’s unexpected and aggressive question clearly raised Bradley’s hackles. He pulled the mobile from his pocket and slid it across the table top towards Morgan with such force that it landed in his lap.

  ‘I’ll give you his name and number and you can speak to him yourself, or you could simply check my phone. Phil Johnson.’

  Kate, prepared to step in to diffuse the situation, was relieved when Morgan calmly lifted the mobile, checked the call log, and having satisfied himself Bradley was telling the truth, placed two fingers on top of the phone and pushed it gently across the table, back to its owner.

  ‘Are you sure you don’t want to ring Phil?’ asked Bradley, goading Morgan further.

  Kate spoke before Morgan could react. ‘There’ll be no need.’

  Bradley tore his gaze away from Morgan’s face and back to Kate, who asked, ‘You talked to Cooper for almost an hour on Thursday morning. What did you discuss?’

  ‘I’m not prepared to divulge that information. It’s irrelevant.’

  ‘It must have been quite a deep and meaningful conversation to last an entire hour, or were you simply shooting the breeze?’

  ‘It’s none of your business what we talked about.’

  ‘It can’t have been idle chit-chat. You wouldn’t be so defensive if it were. Why won’t you share any of it with us?’

  ‘No comment.’

  ‘This isn’t a press conference.’

  ‘You wanted to know where I was on Thursday morning and I’ve told you, and I’d like to reconfirm I was also with Cooper last night. I have no idea where he might be and I don’t wish to tell you what we talked about. It has no bearing on your investigation.’

  Kate resisted the urge to sigh heavily. ‘Fair enough. Just so we can be absolutely certain about this, can you tell us where you met up with Mr Monroe last night?’

  ‘At his house.’

  ‘Was anyone else there who can confirm your whereabouts?’

  ‘No. Sierra was at work and stayed with a friend overnight.’

  ‘How long were you there?’

  ‘A few hours. I arrived at eightish and left in the early hours, around 2 to 2.30 a.m.’

  ‘And what did you and Mr Monroe do for all that time?’

  ‘Talked.’

  ‘Talked again?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What did you talk about?’

  ‘Things that don’t concern you, or this investigation.’

  ‘And after you’d talked, you went home?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Kate weighed up his responses and came to the only conclusion she could. ‘I’m sorry, but until Mr Monroe reappears and confirms your story, we can’t take your word for it.’

  ‘That’s your prerogative. Once you locate him, you’ll find out I’ve been nothing but honest. You have an explanation for my movements last Thursday. As far as I understand it, I’m free to leave at any time unless you charge me.’

  Kate bit her lip. With no reason to charge him or detain him further, she had to let him go. An officer escorted him out and she stayed behind in the interview room with Morgan, who chewed at a thumbnail and let out a heavy sigh. ‘Sorry, I shouldn’t have butted in.’

  ‘It’s fine.’

  ‘He was pissing me off. The fucker’s trained in psychological tactics so he probably knew how to push my buttons.’

  ‘We all mess up from time to time. You pulled it back, didn’t rise to the bait when he practically threw his phone at you.’ It was nothing compared to the cock-up she had made on the train journey with Dickson.

  ‘We’re dealing with a pro, aren’t we? He could be bluffing about not knowing Ian Wentworth.’

  ‘My gut says he’s telling the truth about Ian. He gave us what we asked for – an alibi and a name – Cooper Monroe.’

  ‘Then we’d better locate Cooper.’

  ‘Can I put you on his tail?’

  ‘Sure thing. I’d really like to find out if Bradley is telling us the truth and why the hell Cooper’s conveniently gone AWOL.’

  ‘Over to you.’

  Morgan loped off in the direction of the office, leaving Kate to ponder her next move. Superintendent John Dickson had known Ian and Alex, but there was another person who might also have known them both – Rory Winters, the gardener. She scraped back the chair with fresh determination. With luck, Emma might have found out if Rory had escorted Ian to any functions, and if he had, she was going after him.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  SUNDAY, 6 JUNE – LATE EVENING

  Kate burst into the office. ‘How are you getting on?’ she asked Emma.

  ‘I feel like I’ve completed a crash course in otolaryngology.’

  ‘If I had any idea what that meant, I’d applaud you.’

  ‘All Ian’s documents are work related. Websites visited are fifty-fifty work and pleasure. He prefers older films – North by Northwest, Maltese Falcon, Sunset Boulevard. He’s downloaded quite a collection. It seems he’s not interested in any sport, subscribes to and reads The Times online, plays sudoku, gets his jollies looking at gay porn, and . . . went out with Rory Winters four times this year.’ Emma passed over the notebook in which she’d written the dates she’d got from Cindi Kaufer at the escort agency. ‘How do you want to play this?’

  ‘Talk to Rory.’

  ‘I’ll hand the laptop to the tech boys. There’s stuff I can’t access.’

  ‘What do you think would be his motive for killing them both?’ asked Morgan.

  ‘I don’t think we can get ahead of ourselves just yet,’ said Kate as she rummaged in her large shoulder bag. She screwed up her face. ‘Bugger, where are they?’ She pulled out the paper bag Annette from the Truly Scrumptious Café had given her the day before, and rested it on the desk while she continued searching. At last, she retrieved her car keys and jangled them at Emma. ‘We’ll take my car.’ She picked up the bag and headed for the door.

  ‘Don’t forget this,’ said Emma, picking up the bag and frowning at a patch of brown coming through the paper. ‘I think it’s got crushed. What is it?’

  Kate spoke absent-mindedly. ‘Oh, it’s for Chris – chocolate cake.’

  She took the bag and dropped it back inside her shoulder bag.

  Rory’s pickup truck stood outside his house, the open cargo area filled with square hessian sacks. Emma stood on tiptoe and peered into the first sack.

  ‘Grass clippings,’ she said to Kate, who was on the doorstep, finger on the doorbell.

  ‘What were you hoping for? A body?’

  Emma spun in the direction of the voice behind her. Rory had materialised from nowhere. His grubby T-shirt was damp with perspiration and clung to his defined pectoral muscles.

  Emma recovered her composure quickly. ‘Stranger things have happened.’

  ‘Not around here, they haven’t,’ said Rory, his white teeth on display.

  Kate spoke up. ‘We’d like a word with you.’

  ‘I could do with a quick wash first.’

  ‘It won’t take long,’ said Kate.

  He shrugged. ‘Then you’d better come inside.’

  He led the way to a homely kitchen with an armchair in one corner, over which was a tartan blanket in grey and yellow that harmonised with the pale grey decor. A shabby-chic retro wall clock in yellow hung on the wall over a wooden table, adding to the overall cottagey feel.

  Kate perched on a yellow-cushioned chair next to the table and began the questioning. ‘We believe you know Ian Wentworth.’

  Rory remained poker-faced. ‘What if I do? What’s it got to do with Alex’s death?’

  ‘How well did you know him?’

  ‘Why’s that important?’

  ‘Rory, I haven’t got time to play games with you.’

  ‘I can assure you, I don’t play games.’

  Kate shot him a cold look. He was deflecting. ‘Just answer the
question and tell me what you know about Ian Wentworth, or you know the alternative – a trip to the station. We’ve spoken to Cindi Kaufer, who confirmed you escorted Ian on four occasions this year.’

  Rory rolled his eyes, then acquiesced. ‘Oh, what does it matter? Yes, I escorted Ian earlier this year.’

  ‘Which events did you attend and when?’ Kate asked.

  ‘I don’t recall the exact dates, but I’ll have them somewhere on my phone. He wanted somebody to accompany him to the cinema.’ He thumbed his phone for his calendar as he spoke and held it up so Kate could see the screen. They were the same dates Cindi had given them: 12 February, 19 March, 23 April and 21 May.

  Kate’s brow furrowed. ‘He invited you to the cinema? It seems an odd choice of venue to me. Don’t you usually escort people to social engagements and soirées?’

  ‘He was different. He wanted someone to take to the cinema.’

  ‘That’s all?’

  He threw his hands up in the air. ‘That’s it.’

  ‘Which cinemas did you visit and what did you watch?’

  ‘We only ever went to the multiplex in Tamworth. There are several screens there. We watched Green Book, which was about jazz pianist Don Shirley and a bouncer as they tour across the Deep South of America in the 1960s, At Eternity’s Gate about the artist Vincent van Gogh, The White Crow about Rudolf Nureyev and a film inspired by the music of Bruce Springsteen called Thunder Road.’

  Emma spoke up. ‘Your memory’s good.’

  ‘I store a lot of information. People generally like to chat about films, theatre, news, books and music. I make sure I have something interesting to say to them. It’s part of the job of being a good companion. I usually brush up on the latest film releases.’

  ‘Did Ian talk much?’

  ‘No. He wasn’t my favourite client.’

  ‘Why not?’

  Rory deliberated for a moment. ‘This is in confidence, isn’t it?’

  Kate nodded.

  ‘He propositioned me.’

  ‘A sexual proposition?’

  Rory jerked his head in discomfort. ‘Yes, although not until the fourth outing. After the film we went for a drink in a nearby bar. We discussed the film we’d seen and he reminisced about movies from years ago, then he went off on a tangent, mentioned how difficult it was to find somebody who enjoyed the same things as him. He thought I looked like the sort of bloke who’d enjoy some serious “fun and games” and wanted to know if I’d be up for having sex with him. I told him I was a genuine companion-type escort and didn’t offer extras. He didn’t flinch. Just kept staring at me, and tutting, like I’d suddenly change my mind. I laid it on the line and told him he’d have to find somebody else to go to the cinema with him. I drank up and left.’