by Giles Ekins
‘I’m not going to rape you, Grace. But I would very much like to fuck you, I think you could be an extraordinary fuck, I have always thought so, even when you were wasting yourself with Gary Hooper.’
Grace’s anger suddenly welled up volcanically and she stepped forward and slapped his face as hard as she could. ‘Don’t you dare speak of Gary like that.’
Vickers rubbed his hand across his reddening cheek. I think you will come to regret that, Grace.’
And he walked back through the connecting door and closed it behind him. Sobbing with humiliation and anger, anger at Vickers and with herself, she did wedge the chair under the handle, not that she thought Vickers would come back, but as the only act of defiance she could think of.
Despite the luxurious bed, it was the most miserable nights’ sleep she had endured since Gary’s death. Yes, she was ambitious, determined to advance in her career, but she was going to achieve her aims by merit, not on her back.
In the morning she went down to breakfast, not particularly hungry, but needing strong coffee, lots of strong coffee and some fresh orange juice,
She could have ordered room service but determined that she was not going to hide away. She was here for the conference, and notwithstanding ACC Vickers crude attempts to seduce her, Grace was going to enjoy the experience, there was much that she could learn. And just as important, it was a chance to network and make potentially important contacts.
But then she noticed Chesworth, Crawford and Halliday eating at one of the tables and smirking at her. Chesworth even gave her a knowing wink and her resolve collapsed. She turned on her heel and walked out. Obviously Vickers had not told them he had failed to get her into bed. Presumably Chesworth thought he was next in line. As if!
Grace ran to her room, hurriedly stuffed her clothes into the suitcase, had a last check around to ensure she had packed everything, only to find her used knickers by the chair Vickers had sat in. He must have taken them out of the polythene bag she’d put them in last night.
‘What a creep’, sniffing at her knickers.
She could not bear to speak to him and so left a message at the front desk telling him that she was leaving. She had no doubt he would be stick with the bill for her room
She drove back to Sheffield in cold fury.
ACC Martin Vickers did not take the rejection kindly, especially when was it was obvious to his colleagues that he had failed.in his attempt to bed her,
His ego could not tolerate that, which was why he was so vindictive, determined to prove her incompetent and thwart her career advancement. What had been surprising however, almost as soon she was back at her desk, her promotion to Detective Chief Inspector was confirmed. Grace could only assume that the promotion had already been in the pipeline and Vickers had been unable to forestall it.
She had never told anybody about the Birmingham affair, and swore to herself that she never ever would.
But Grace’s anger continued to seethe like acid through her veins as she and Terry set out for Whitburn-on-Sea and the encounter with Sebastian Serrano.
Forty
‘This is totally outrageous,’ Peter Donnelly stormed as Fred Burbage and Danny Moss walked into the offices of Donald J Jarrett and Partners, Accountants, Financial and Mortgage Advisors on the first floor of 74, Denmark Street, armed with a search warrant giving them the authority to search the premises, secure any computers, iPads. Mobile phones, files, documents and remove any or all of them as the officers thought fit.
‘The warrant authorises us to seize any computers or documents we deem relevant, sir.’ Feed Burbage answered politely.
‘You’re doing nothing of the sort until I have spoken to my lawyers, in the meantime you will leave the premises.’ Donnelly demanded, clearly agitated.
‘I’m afraid it doesn’t work that way, sir. You may phone whoever you wish, but if you try and impede our search in any way, you may be arrested.’
Sarah Collins, the office receptionist watched this exchange with barely contained delight. She hated the bullying, demanding, Peter Donnelly, who had raised his unpleasantness level ever since Donald Jarrett had been forced to reduce his workload after his heart attack and the threats to arrest Donnelly were joyous to watch.
‘Arrested? Are you threatening me? I want your name, rank and number, both of you. This will be taken up with the highest authorities, you mark my words. The Chief Constable will hear of this.’
‘On intimate speaking terms with Mr Harrison, are you, sir?’ Fred asked equably, showing no sign that Donnelly’s threats concerned him.’
‘Very much so, and I shall be speaking to him about your immediate dismissal,’ he blustered, even though he had never heard of ‘Mr Harrison the Chief Constable,’ he fully intended to use this information to up his threat level if necessary.
‘I see, sir, however, in fact ‘Mr Harrison’ is my butcher and the Chief Constable in Mr Colin Hartburn, So I’m afraid your threats to report me are worthless.’ Fred informed him as Sarah had to restrain herself from clapping. ‘This is fantastic, she thought as she watched the drama unfolding before her eyes, better than the telly any day!
On hearing the raised voices, Angela Hargreaves, one of the accountants, Joe Chester, an accounts clerk and Mary Brierly, the secretary came to see what was going on as Donnelly waved them away in irritation.
‘Of course, Colin, Colin Hartburn,’ he spluttered, annoyed with himself for falling onto the trap, especially so with the rest of the staff watching. ‘How could I forget that? Mr…er Lawrence Harrison, he’s a top…lawyer, I’ll be taking this matter up with him. Now, I must ask you to leave the premises whilst I make enquiries to ascertain if this warrant is legal’ he said, waving the other staff away again without success, they just shuffled their feet and moved back a couple of feet.
‘We are not leaving, Mr Donnelly and if you obstruct me any further, you will face arrest,’ Fred warned him firmly.
‘Very well, do what you must, but under no circumstances will you be entering my office. Nothing in there is covered by this warrant, which only covers the business activities of Donald. Donald Jarrett.’ At the mention of his name, Sarah reached for a tissue and dabbed her eyes, she was very upset by his death.
‘No sir, it covers the activities of Donald J Jarrett and Partners, Accountants, Financial and Mortgage Advisors, which includes everything in your office. Everything. And indeed, you will not be permitted to enter your office until you’re given permission to do so. Is that fully understood?’
Initially, Fred Burbage had not considered looking too deeply into Donald Jarrett’s business affairs. It was routine. He had expected computers and files to made available without fuss, if the books were clean, why not, but Donnelly’s attitude had sparked his interest. The man was hiding something, and Fred was determined to find out what.
‘In fact, Mr Donnelly, I think we shall make a start in your office. Please remain out here, but first give me the passwords for any computers, lap-tops, iPhones etc. I require also, sir, that you hand over your phone for forensic examination.’
‘And if I refuse?
Danny Moss now spoke for the first time, ‘Sir, under Section 89 (2) of the Police Act 1996 it is an offence to wilfully obstruct a police officer in the execution of his duty. Penalties can include a fine up to 600% of your weekly income or even, in a severe case, a jail term. This is a murder investigation which would carry the highest category of obstruction. I therefore strongly advise you take note of what Sgt Burbage orders you to do.’
‘Well said, lad, couldn’t have put it better myself.’ Fred complimented him. ‘Your mobile please, Mr Donnelly.
‘This gets better and better, Sarah Collins wanted to hug herself with glee, ‘Peter Donnelly threatened with jail, fantastic.
‘This is outrageous, I demand to speak to my lawyer.’
‘I think you’ll find that difficult sir.’ answered Fred, a hard edge now creeping into his voice, he was getting annoyed wi
th all this nonsense.
‘And why is that?’
‘Difficult to make a telephone call when your hands are handcuffed behind your back.’
‘Yet more threats, I… oh, very well, here you go although how I’m supposed to carry out my business, I don’t know.’
‘Thank you, Now Danny, please go and unplug every computer, lap-top, phones, any hard discs, in fact every storage device you can find in Mr Donnelly’s office and load them in the car. Then we can discover why Mr Donnelly is so anxious not to cooperate. Got something to hide have you sir?’
‘No, no, absolutely not.’
‘Well, we’ll see about that, won’t we, sir?
But Peter Donnelly did have something to hide. For more than a year he had been ‘borrowing’ from the company, utilising client funds entrusted to him for investment, fully intending to repay it of course, it was only a ‘temporary loan.’
However, somehow the debts kept rising, his run of luck at Caesar’s Empire casino on Broad Street had been dire but was sure to turn around sooner rather than later, wasn’t it?
It was the details of the ‘loans; recorded on an external hard drive, separate from the main accounts , that he was desperate did not fall into police hands.
He could only watch agitatedly as his MacBook Pro and a Toshiba 2TB hard drive were carried out of the office by Danny Moss and could barely resist the urge to snatch them out of the young policeman’s grasp. Feed Burbage, watching Donnelly closely, could see it in his eyes. There’s something in those files he does not want us to find.
‘Not worried what we might find, are you Mr Donnelly?’ he asked.
‘No, no, of course not,’ but his eyes, darting left and right in agitation, gave him away.
‘If there is anything to find, sir, be sure that we’ll find it.’ and Donnelly turned pale.
Sarah Collins thought it to be one of the best days she had ever spent in the office.
Forty-One
Adam Kennedy was at home when Jessica Babalola called on him. If he was surprised to see a diminutive black detective on his doorstep, he gave no sign of it. ‘You’d best come in, love,’ was all he said after she had introduced herself and shown him her warrant card.
There a strong smell of wet dog in the house and she was not surprised when a large black Labrador come over to meet and inspect her. She was nervous around large dogs and was pleased, when, after a sniff at her proffered hand, the dog wagged his tail and walked away.
‘That’s Jason,’ Kennedy said, ‘he’s a real pussy cat.’ Which was not the description that Jessica would have used. ‘So, what’s it all about then?’ he asked, as they sat down in his front room and he’d turned the television off.
‘You attended a spiritualist meeting at the Eastvale Community Hall on the 15th, is that correct.’
‘Yes, I was, with my wife Susan, and I can guess where this is going and what this is about.’
‘And what would that be, sir?’
‘Well, it’s obvious, all that happened, the murders and all that.’
‘That’s correct, sir, and what can you tell me about the meeting.’
‘Well, for a start, I didn’t want to go. Waste of time and money to my mind, but Susan likes that sort of thing, so I go along, keep her company, like.’
‘And what happened?’
‘I reckon you know full well happened, officer. That Serrano, the medium fella, connected with the dead girl, Julia Jarrett, who accused her father, that Donald Jarrett, of abusing her. But you know all that, don’t you?’
‘What I know or don’t know, is beside the point, sir. Then what, after the …message?
‘All hell broke loose, didn’t it? Shouting and swearing, calling the guy all sorts of names and the clairvoyant fella buggered off sharpish and the meeting broke up. We were told to leave, with no refund which pissed me off a bit.’
‘The shouting and swearing at Donald Jarrett, did you join in?’
‘Yeah, sort of, everybody was at it.’
‘We have a report which says you threatened Donald Jarrett? What about that, sir?’
‘I probably did, I hate those paedophile bastards, abusing kids. Look, I’ve got daughters of my own and the thought that somebody could do that to their daughter really makes me angry.’
‘So, you threatened him. ‘I see you in the street, I’ll do you,’ or words to that effect. Is that right?’
‘Could be, I don’t remember exactly, but it sounds about the thing I might have said, I was right angry. But no, I did not ‘do him’, even if I did say it.’
‘Did you touch him at all?’
Kennedy thought about his answer for a few seconds, ‘Yeah, I poked him on the chest with a finger as I was talking to him. Stupid, I know.’
‘It was. Where were you, sir, the day of the murder?’
‘At work, I remember somebody saying they’d seen the news on his ‘phone. I couldn’t believe it. But no, it wasn’t me, if that’s what you’re thinking.’
Jason, the black lab, wandered back into the room and came to give Jessica another sniff before settling down at Kennedy’s feet. ‘Good boy’ he said.
‘Where do you work, sir, and who could verify that you were there? Jessica asked, glad the dog had settled down on the other side of the room.
‘I’m the assistant manager at Costco’s. out in the industrial estate, I was there all day from about 8,30 while 6, and about 20 staff and God knows how many customers saw me. there. No, officer, I’m not your man.’
‘Of course. We’ll check that out, but I must warn you, threatening behaviour is an offence
‘I know, I behaved like a twat and I’m annoyed with myself, not proud of it, but the thought that… the father might have abused his girl…’
‘Very good, Mr Kennedy, I’ll take this up with my boss, see what she wants to do, but on this occasion, most likely no further action will be taken.’
‘Thanks, I’ll not be doing owt like that again, believe me, it could cost me my job.’
‘Yes sir, just bear that in mind in future.’
Forty-Two
Grace and Terry left West Garside around three o’clock, with Grace driving the Alfa Romeo and quickly got onto the M1 at Dodworth, near Barnsley.
A few miles up the road they passed the turn-off for the Yorkshire Sculpture Park, where Terry sometimes took his children and offered to take Grace ‘one day, perhaps, it’s really great,’. ‘Yes, one day maybe’ was all the response he got.
They drove up the M1 at speed to the junction with the A1, continued northwards on the A1 before turning off onto the A64.
Grace drove fast, very fast at times, if there was a clear stretch of road, she put her foot down and frequently sent the speedometer over 100mph, at one time touching 115mph, but at no time did Terry feel concerned. She had absolute control of the car, she was at one with the purring Alfa Romeo, alert, with swift reactions and total concentration. He mentioned her speed only once, concerned they were travelling well above the speed limit.
‘We’re police officers on an official investigation, aren’t we? Speed is of the essence, it’s a matter of life and death.’
‘Yes, mine.’ he retorted.
‘Not worried are you, wimping out?’ she responded lightly, her cold fury with Vickers now largely dissipated, the adrenaline rush of speed flushing the acids of anger out of her pulsing arteries and veins.
‘No, not all, you’re a really good driver. You’re really into this thing, aren’t you? I can see it in your eyes, like, like a tigress on the hunt for her prey.’
‘The driving, you mean? she answered, not taking her eyes of the road as passed another line of lorries a high speed.
‘Well yes, there is that, but I meant the hunt for the killer of the Jarrett’s. It’s total for you, isn’t it?’
‘Yeah, I do get an adrenaline rush when I’m on a murder investigation, it’s true. It’s like driving this Alfa at 150 down the autobahn in Germany, it’s that s
ort of rush, on the edge. And then realisation kicks in; for there to be a murder investigation, somebody has to die and that brings me back down to reality again.’
‘It’s still ambition, though, Terry continued, ‘the need to prove yourself, which is why Vickers annoyed you so much when he undermined you.’
‘Yes, sure, I’m ambitious all right.’
‘Nothing wrong with that, in my book.’
‘I do want to go all the way to the top, it can happen’
‘Chief Constable Grace Swan sounds good to me,’ Terry said.
‘Actually, my full name is Graceful Swan. Can you believe it, Graceful Swan?’ You can imagine all the bullying I had to face at school, especially since I was an ugly duckling.’
‘I can’t see you as that, and anyway, Graceful Swan is such a lovely name, it really suits you.’
‘Thank you.’
‘And I bet you make Chief Constable, despite Vickers, you’ve got boxes ticked off already.’
‘You mean because I’m a woman and black?’
‘Black? I’d never put you down as black. Never in a million years!’
‘I’m black enough to have once been called a black bitch when I’ve made an arrest. Mind you, I did have a big frizzy Afro at the time, I was searching for my African roots.
‘I still don’t get it. You’re whiter than I am and I’m as lily-white as it gets.’
‘If you go back far enough in my family history, you will find a Joseph Swan married to Eslankiki, a Masai girl in Kenya. He was a famer and hunter and it caused a massive scandal amongst the other white settlers and he was ostracised from white society. And the Masai didn’t take kindly to her marrying a white man either, prejudice works both ways you know.’
‘So, they came back to England?’
‘No. they stayed on in Kenya. Their son, who was obviously of mixed race, he married a Belgian girl, of apparently of disreputable reputation, according to my Grandma. She was white, and their son also married white and so on and so on down the line, all white. I once calculated that only about two percent, at most, of my blood can be African, but nevertheless, if this was Apartheid South Africa I would be classified as coloured, no matter how much white blood I have,