Conspiracy

by Adrian Wills

  ‘Right,’ said Blake, jumping up. ‘I’ll get dressed. We’ll go straight there.’

  ‘No point. He’s in an induced coma to reduce a swelling on his brain. He was pretty messed up. They think he’d been on the receiving end of a severe beating. Nobody’s speaking to him about anything for a few days.’

  ‘But he might have been the last person to have seen Kyle Hopkins alive.’

  ‘Doctors’ orders.’

  ‘Shit.’

  ‘That’s not all. He also had abrasions to his arms, legs and body that the doctors say are consistent with a fall.’

  Blake raised an eyebrow.

  ‘They think he may have been dumped out of the back of a moving vehicle.’

  ‘After he was beaten?’

  ‘It looks that way. But I’ve not got to the best bit.’

  Blake filled a small plastic kettle with water from the sink in the bathroom. ‘Go on,’ he said, returning to the room and setting it to boil as he poured a couple of sachets of coffee granules into two mugs.

  ‘The officers who attended found a notebook on him while they were looking for some ID.’

  Blake turned and caught Parkes staring at the pattern of ragged scars that marked his naked torso. Every one with a story to tell.

  ‘It was full of names, addresses and phone numbers,’ she said, turning away and flicking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

  ‘An address book?’ asked Blake.

  ‘A ledger.’ The kettle gurgled and hissed and eventually clicked off as the water boiled. ‘It was full of cash sums, interest rates and repayment dates. All neatly recorded against a dozen names.’

  ‘Including Kyle Hopkins’?’

  ‘Actually no, but it only went back a month.’

  ‘Does Hubbard know?’

  ‘I don’t think so. They only alerted me because my name was logged on the system after I had a search run on him.’

  ‘Listen, would you do me a favour? Keep this from Hubbard for the time being?’

  ‘I’ll have to tell him,’ said Parkes.

  ‘Just until I’ve had a chance to speak to Claire Hopkins again.’

  ‘He’ll go berserk if you go anywhere near her,’ she said, hands on her hips.

  ‘My only concern is finding out what’s happened to Kyle Hopkins, and how much his wife knows. I really couldn’t care less what Hubbard thinks.’

  They reached the outskirts of Tavistock at around eleven after abandoning Parkes’ Volvo at a garage and picking up a hire car. Blake drove, lost in his own thoughts while Parkes sat giving him the silent treatment. He had no desire to get her into any trouble, but if they went through Hubbard there was no way he’d allow Blake to speak to Claire.

  He parked directly outside the Hopkins’ house, noting the empty driveway, and glad to see no sign of Jamie Dobson’s BMW.

  ‘Are you coming in or do you want to wait here?’

  Parkes huffed, slipped off her seatbelt and let herself out. Blake hammered loudly on the front door with his fist. A plain clothes police officer Blake remembered from the incident room answered.

  ‘Sally,’ he said, smiling. ‘Is Claire in?’

  ‘Yes, but —’

  Blake barged past.

  ‘Does DCI Hubbard know you’re here?’

  Claire was in the kitchen, leaning against a worktop, nursing a mug of steaming tea. Her face looked hollow, her skin grey. ‘Is it Kyle?’ she asked, when she saw Blake, an expectant note of optimism in her voice.

  ‘No. I’m sorry.’

  Claire’s shoulders slumped. ‘So what do you want?’

  ‘Tell me about Shazhed Ali.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘He was found badly beaten last night.’

  ‘I don’t know what or who you’re talking about.’

  ‘He’s currently in a coma with a swelling on the brain. He may be left with permanent injuries.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘You had an unexpected windfall a few months ago. Twenty-five thousand pounds was paid into your current account.’ Claire stared at Blake without a flicker of emotion. ‘It was around the same time the bank had threatened to start legal proceedings against you.’

  ‘If you say so. I don’t know.’

  ‘Where did the money come from?’

  ‘I’ve no idea. Kyle takes care of the finances.’

  ‘And he never discussed it with you?’

  ‘No,’ said Claire, slamming down her mug on the side.

  ‘It’s okay,’ said Parkes, stepping out from behind Blake. ‘Nobody’s blaming you for anything. We just want to find out the truth.’

  ‘I’m telling you the truth.’

  ‘But now your debts are bigger than ever. Do you know how much you owe the bank?’ Claire shook her head. ‘Almost twenty grand.’

  ‘Christ.’ She looked genuinely shocked.

  ‘Any idea how you’re going to pay that off?’

  ‘No,’ said Claire, almost under her breath.

  ‘Let me ask you again, did Kyle ever mention a man called Shazhed Ali?’

  ‘No’

  ‘Do you know what a loan shark is, Claire?’

  ‘Don’t patronise me.’

  ‘Is it possible Shazhed Ali lent your husband that money?’

  ‘I’ve already told you, I’ve never heard of him before.’

  ‘A few weeks ago he was in town looking for Kyle. It’s possible he may have been the caller Kyle spoke to on the night he disappeared.’

  ‘So what are you saying? That Kyle was in debt to him?’

  ‘Was he?’

  ‘To be honest, it’s the kind of stupid thing he might have done.’

  Parkes shot Blake a knowing look.

  ‘You know what I think?’ said Blake.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I think Kyle was in over his head and panicked. I think he took a loan from Ali he couldn’t pay back but continued to rack up debts and went back looking for more credit. I think he was desperate and arranged to meet Ali on the night he vanished. I imagine there was some kind of argument. Maybe Ali refused to lend him any more money, or perhaps he put up his interest rates. Whatever it was, I think Kyle flipped.’

  ‘No,’ said Claire, shaking her head.

  ‘Yes,’ said Blake, studying her reaction, looking for a tell that would give away she knew more than she was letting on.

  ‘I know my husband. He wouldn’t do something like that.’

  ‘Even if he was desperate?’

  ‘Even if he was desperate,’ she said, glowering at Blake.

  ‘Detective Constable, can I have a word in private?’ Sally had been listening from the corner of the room.

  Parkes sighed. She rolled her eyes at Blake and disappeared with the liaison officer into the hall, out of earshot.

  ‘Do you have any idea how you ended up in so much debt?’ asked Blake when the two women had gone.

  Claire drew a deep breath in through her nose and let it out slowly through her mouth. She scuffed her toe over a spot on the kitchen floor and chewed her lip. ‘Kyle has a problem,’ she said.

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘He denies it’s a problem, of course. If I dare mention it, he flies off the handle and accuses me of not understanding. He can’t stop, won’t stop. So in the end I’ve refused to worry about it anymore.’

  ‘Gambling?’

  ‘There’s nothing else I can do, short of leaving him. I stopped checking the bank account a long time ago. I’ve told him he has a family and a responsibility to put food on the table, and that it was up to him to sort himself out. But I think he’s beyond help. And actually, when he went missing, part of me was pleased. Isn’t that awful?’

  ‘It’s understandable,’ said Blake, thinking back to how Claire had appeared so cold, so uncaring in front of the press at the police station. Her mind must have been a contradiction of emotions.

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘I’ve let him down. I knew he was in trouble and I couldn’t help him.’


  ‘And you knew nothing about the loan?’

  ‘I promise you,’ she said.

  ‘If you’re involved in this, Claire, you’ll go down with Kyle. Think about the kids. The police already suspect you have something to do with Kyle’s disappearance. So if there’s anything you need to say, now would be a good time.’

  Claire looked aghast. ‘They suspect me?’

  ‘They think you’ve helped your husband to fake his own death.’

  ‘Is that what you think?’

  ‘I don’t know. I want to trust you, but without a body it’s hard to know what to believe.’

  ‘Don’t say that.’ Claire wiped a tear from her eye. ‘But if they think I have something to do with it, why haven’t they arrested me?’

  ‘They have no evidence.’

  ‘There is no evidence.’

  ‘But you’re hiding something, aren’t you?’ Her gaze fell to the floor and she fell silent. ‘When did his gambling become a problem?’

  ‘He’s always liked a flutter, but things started to get out of hand this last year, I suppose.’

  ‘Do you think it might have anything to do with his past? You said Kyle had served in Iraq.’

  ‘Only for a short period.’

  ‘It’s possible his addictive behaviour could be a manifestation of post-traumatic stress. Lots of soldiers have been scarred by what they’ve seen on the battlefield.’

  ‘I suppose it’s possible,’ said Claire.

  ‘Except, he was never in Iraq, was he? I’ve had his military records checked. It’s true the regiment was posted there in 2004, but Kyle and the others stayed to set up the training school. Why would you lie about something like that?’

  Claire frowned. ‘Well, I didn’t make it up.’ She pushed herself off the worktop and strode into the living room towards the shelves filled with photographs. Blake watched her move with definite purpose, ash blonde hair pulled away from her face in a loose ponytail. ‘You saw the picture,’ she said, rummaging through the photo frames.

  ‘Yes,’ said Blake.

  ‘But it’s not here anymore,’ she said, sounding frantic. ‘It’s gone.’

  ‘Gone?’

  ‘It was right here. You saw it yourself.’

  Blake peered over her shoulder where the snapshots of their family life over the last ten or fifteen years filled a shelf. But she was right, there was no picture of Kyle Hopkins in his desert fatigues, fresh-faced and ruddy-cheeked. ‘Maybe you moved it?’ he said. ‘Or gave it to the police?’

  ‘No, I would have remembered.’

  ‘It’ll turn up,’ said Blake. ‘Don’t worry.’

  ‘But that’s really weird.’

  ‘Blake?’ said Parkes, appearing from the hall. ‘We have to leave. Right now.’

  ‘I’m not finished yet.’

  ‘Yes you are. We’re going, or it’s my job on the line.’

  ‘Claire, are you okay?’ asked Sally.

  ‘I’m fine.’ Claire flopped on the sofa with her head in her hands.

  Sally shot Blake an accusatory glance. Blake smiled back. ‘I’ll be in touch, Claire,’ he said, as he let Parkes guide him out. The front door slammed behind them.

  ‘What the hell was all that about?’ Blake asked, as he stood to one side to let Parkes through the garden gate.

  ‘Sally’s threatening to report me to Hubbard for gross misconduct. I should never have let you talk me into coming back here.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘You shouldn’t have interfered. This has nothing to do with terrorists or MI5. It’s a police matter. Why couldn’t you leave it alone?’

  ‘I had to know the truth.’ Blake blipped open the car doors and they climbed in.

  ‘Well, thanks very much. If she puts in a complaint, that’s the end of my career.’

  ‘Don’t worry. I’ll explain to Hubbard I gave you no choice.’

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  At first Claire Hopkins welcomed having a family liaison police officer around the house. When she’d been numb with shock and was wrestling with the possibility Kyle might never come home, Sally had been kind and sympathetic, lending a hand around the place and offering comforting words of support, and she’d certainly been glad she’d been there to rescue her from the man from MI5 who’d accused her of playing a part in Kyle’s disappearance.

  She still couldn’t believe it. It was ludicrous. Then she remembered he’d said it was the police who suspected her. She watched Sally lock and bolt the front door from the end of the hall. And suddenly, she was desperate for her own space, to get her house back again.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Claire,’ said Sally. ‘I should never have let them in and talk to you like that. Are you sure you’re okay? I feel like I’ve let you down.’

  ‘Is it true?’

  ‘Is what true?’

  ‘That the police think I had something to do with Kyle’s disappearance?’

  ‘Don’t be silly. Of course they don’t.’

  ‘Is it what you think?’

  Sally took her time to answer. She was about to speak when Claire’s phone chirruped. A message from the school. ‘Shit,’ she hissed.

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  The kids’ sports day had been on the calendar for weeks. How could she have forgotten the date?

  ‘I sent the kids to school without their PE kit.’

  ‘It’s not the end of the world. Surely they can sit out PE just once? The school knows what you’re going through.’

  ‘The whole school’s supposed to be taking part in front of the parents.’

  ‘Well then, I’m sure we can find someone to run their kit over.’

  Claire immediately thought about Spider. She tapped out a message on her phone. He’d been so good to her since Kyle had gone. He replied almost immediately.

  ‘I’d do it myself,’ said Sally, ‘but I’m not supposed to leave you.’

  ‘It’s okay. Spider’s on his way. He’ll do it.’ Claire collapsed on the arm of the sofa, feeling as though the weight of the world was pressing down on her shoulders. The tears welled up from nowhere, catching her by surprise, her sobs rising from deep in her gut and wracking her body.

  ‘Hey,’ said Sally, rushing across the room to rub her back. ‘Don’t cry.’

  ‘What kind of mother am I, who can’t even remember her own kids’ sports day?’

  ‘You’ve got a lot on your plate, and besides you’re a great mum. Listen, do you want me to drive you over there?’

  Claire shook her head. The thought of the other mothers staring and whispering made her feel sick. She couldn’t bear the thought of their sickly sympathy and meaningless platitudes.

  ‘That’s fine. We don’t have to go. Is their kit ready?’

  ‘Oh God, no,’ said Claire. She dropped her phone on the coffee table and snatched the kids’ polo shirts off a clothes rack by the radiator. ‘Can you listen out for Spider?’ she said, heading for their bedrooms to dig out the drawstring bags she’d had embroidered with their names.

  Chloe’s room was a complete tip, as usual. Dirty clothes were strewn across the floor and her bed was a rat’s nest of rucked sheets, pillows and crumpled duvet. Claire threw open the closet and pawed through the stack of board games and the boxes filled with toys she didn’t play with anymore. Her PE bag was shoved at the back amongst a heap of trainers and shoes she’d outgrown. Claire groaned when she discovered it contained only one plimsoll. She was about to dive back into the wardrobe when she heard her mobile phone ring and realised she’d left it in the other room. She froze, a chill running through her veins. Surely she’d not left it on the coffee table in front of Sally? Shit.

  It rang twice and stopped.

  Claire held her breath.

  ‘Hello?’ she heard Sally’s voice answer.

  Claire rose slowly from her knees, listening. A long silence followed when she thought her heart might burst out of her chest. She tiptoed into the hall and watched Sally with t
he phone to her ear.

  ‘Okay, I’ll let her know,’ she said, her tone off-hand. A little cold.

  ‘Who was that?’ asked Claire, her voice weak.

  Sally spun around and handed Claire the mobile, her eyes narrowing. ‘It was a man, asking for you. He said his name was Steve.’ She raised an eyebrow, encouraging Claire to explain.

  Claire didn’t want to explain. It was all too complicated.

  ‘Did he say what he wanted?’ Claire busied herself picking at a loose thread on Chloe’s PE bag.

  ‘Who is he?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘I could have the call traced.’

  ‘He’s nobody.’

  ‘The truth, Claire.’

  How could she have been so stupid to have left her phone out, especially with Sally in the house? Maybe a part of her subconscious brain had done it deliberately. Did she feel the need to be found out? She was certainly sick of living the lie that life with Kyle was a bed of roses, but the thought of her affair being discovered while he was missing made her light-headed with fear. What would everyone think?

  ‘He’s a friend,’ she said, sensing Sally’s gaze boring into her. She couldn’t lie. Sally was right, they’d simply trace the call and then start to speculate what other secrets she was hiding.

  ‘Are you romantically involved with him?’

  Romantically involved? What an odd expression. It was hardly how she’d describe the few breathless moments they’d snatched together. It had started as a drunken fumble at the end of a school fundraiser Kyle had refused to attend. She wasn’t even sure how it had happened. Steve, a teacher in the year above Chloe’s class, wasn’t even that good looking, but he’d paid more attention to her, made her feel more special than she remembered Kyle had done in a long, long time.

  It had progressed to exciting, animalistic sex at his house while his wife was out. They were as good as separated, or so he said. Sharing the same house but living different lives. She’d felt guilty, but not enough to stop.

  There wasn’t much romance to it. No bunches of roses or candlelit dinners. It was much more needy than that. At best, he’d been a sympathetic listener on the other end of the phone when her exasperation with Kyle had left her close to despair. They’d talked about building a new life together in those hot, sweaty moments after they were spent, curled up on his cheap faux leather sofa, their clothes abandoned on the floor. But she knew they were pipe dreams, that he’d never leave his wife, despite all the talk.