Letter From The Dead - a crime thriller (Detective Inspector Declan Walsh Book 1)

by Jack Gatland

Everyone in the room now started to look around, their faces filled with suspicion.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Declan smiled. ‘It’s nobody in here. It’s Trix.’

  As he watched her through the glass, he saw Trix jerk in her chair, glancing nervously at the briefing room.

  ‘I know you have a bug in here, and I know you can hear everything we’re saying,’ Declan waved to her. ‘It’s why you have those bloody ear buds in all the time. So I suggest you get your arse in here and explain everything before I call the two Middle Temple guards I borrowed when I came in this morning, who are waiting just outside, and have you brought in by force.’

  Slowly and shakily Trix got to her feet, looking to the main entrance.

  ‘You won’t manage it,’ Declan shook his head. ‘Feel free to have a go, though.’

  Anjli opened the door as Trix walked into the room.

  ‘I think you need to sit down, lassie,’ Monroe grumbled as he looked to Declan. ‘Are you sure about this?’

  ‘I wasn’t until just now,’ Declan admitted. ‘I actually thought it could have been you.’ Monroe’s eyebrow raised, so Declan continued. ‘I only told you I was going to my Tottenham apartment, and the man was waiting for me. Only you and I knew where Shaun was, yet somehow someone was able to move things around. It was a small list.’ He looked back to Trix.

  ‘Until I spoke to Derby, and they explained how their work experience girl found the letter while filing,’ he said. ‘They couldn’t remember the name of the girl, but remembered that all she did was sit on social media all day. And, after they sent the letter on, she stopped arriving.’

  ‘Doesn’t mean that’s me.’ Trix’s expression was belligerent. Declan nodded.

  ‘True, so let’s go through everything. Our records have been tampered with; and you’ve been working on the record entry system all week. We’re an antiquated system here, and it’s easy to delete what’s not required. And let’s face it, by making a point of not knowing what HOLMES2 was, you ensured that we’d all dismiss any computer skills that you had. Then, you conveniently took the phone call that brought the first footage of Shaun Donnal to us. When I called to let the Guv know I was going back to my apartment, you took the call. And when I arrived, there was a man waiting for me.’

  ‘Oh come on,’ Trix complained. ‘Answering the phone isn’t a crime.’

  ‘True, but you made a point of checking which house I was going to,’ Declan said. ‘The next day, when you saw my face, you seemed concerned. You even said ‘they shouldn’t have done that to you,’ as if you knew who ‘they’ were. I thought it was compassion, but now I realise it was guilt.’

  ‘Susan Devington knew to come here,’ Monroe thought aloud. ‘And Charles Baker knew that we were visiting him even before we did. Have you bugged all of the rooms?’

  ‘They haven’t bugged downstairs,’ Doctor Marcos stated. ‘We do a bug sweep every morning.’

  Declan almost wanted to ask Doctor Marcos why she did this, but decided to shelve that thought for the moment. Trix glanced around the room as if looking for allies, and then like a deflated balloon all the fight left her body as she slumped back into the chair.

  ‘He was supposed to warn you, not attack you,’ she said softly. ‘He was supposed to make you think he was government, make you look at Charles Baker more.’

  ‘Why were we being aimed at Charles Baker?’ Billy asked.

  ‘Because that was the plan all along,’ Declan said. ‘Revenge.’

  Trix nodded. ‘Ms Pearce wanted to get revenge on them all for what they did to Sarah Hinksman. I never knew why, just that I was to ensure you followed the breadcrumbs.’

  ‘What was the endgame?’ Doctor Marcos asked. ‘Destroy the reps of Andy Mac and Baker?’

  ‘Probably,’ Declan replied. ‘However, Pearce had all three of them under her thumb, so something had to have set this off.’

  Trix nodded again. ‘Michael Davies had information, all locked up in a vault. She always had a fear that if one of them worked out where it was, if they got in there they could destroy everything she’d built up.’

  ‘So this was a scorched earth ploy,’ Monroe mused. ‘Remove all targets, make them so distrusted that no matter what they said later, it’d never work.’

  ‘I think so.’

  ‘But why?’ Anjli looked around. ‘I mean I understand revenge for what happened to Michael, but the whole Hinksman thing—’

  ‘I think I’ve worked that bit out,’ Billy looked up from his laptop at Trix. ‘You might have deleted files to stop us learning that Francine Pearce was Frankie Wilson, but there are other ways to search. I’m in the Law Society database.’ He shared his laptop’s display onto the plasma screen. It was a list of names and years.

  ‘When people get their law degrees, they then have to do two years on a Legal Practice Course’ he read from a page on his phone. ‘After that, and after they complete a period of recognised training they collect their certificate and are admitted to the roll of solicitors. And right here in 1993, we have written down on the roll Francine Wilson, née Pearce.’ He highlighted a list of names. ‘You’ll also see here that in the same year her sister, Sarah Pearce was admitted to the roll of solicitors as well.’

  ‘So Francine became a solicitor while she was married.’ Monroe nodded. ‘That’s why we didn’t link the PA Pearce with the solicitor Wilson.’

  ‘And Sarah Pearce became a solicitor before she married,’ Declan said in realisation. ‘She married Liam Hinksman at the start of 1994.’

  ‘God,’ Anjli looked to Trix. ‘Sarah Hinksman and Francine Pearce were sisters?’

  ‘Makes sense,’ Declan picked up his notebook, opening it. ‘Sarah becomes an MP, and Frankie joins her in an advisory position.’

  ‘Still doesn’t explain why she ended up working for the Devingtons.’ Monroe looked to Trix, who refused to catch his eye.

  ‘I think I might have that, as well,’ Declan said. ‘Something that Andy Mac had said yesterday about speaking ill of the dead. I think Victoria Davies was the one who spiked Sarah’s drink with ketamine.’

  There was a silence in the room as the others took this in.

  ‘Andy Mac said that Victoria was well versed in such drugs. And she and Michael were grooming Shaun to be their big socialist replacement for Blair. I think that Hinksman turned up to reveal Baker as the father of her child and Victoria, thinking it was Shaun about to be revealed tried to find a way to stop her. I don’t think she expected Sarah to drive. But either way, Sarah dies. This is why Victoria becomes the shoulder for Shaun to cry on; guilt for the manslaughter.’

  ‘Somehow, Frankie finds this out,’ Monroe was speaking now. ‘She’s not known by Michael and Victoria and so she joins Devington under her maiden name and over the next year gets close to Michael, looking for a way to destroy them both.’

  ‘She reconnects with Baker around now,’ Billy added, flipping another document, a typed statement to the screen. ‘Doctor Khai sent his statement in last night, and says that Baker and a solicitor named Wilson were the ones who bought him off. Therefore Michael thinks he’s sterile when in fact he’s as virile as ever.’

  ‘Baker sees this as a way of removing Victoria and Shaun,’ Anjli was writing in her notebook now as she spoke. ‘If Victoria becomes pregnant then Michael will believe it’s an affair, even if it’s actually his child.’

  ‘Francine carries on with her mission of revenge, and turns on Victoria,’ Declan continued. ‘She makes alliances with Susan, most likely showing her how much of a nightmare Daddy’s company is becoming with those two in charge. Susan agrees to help. Francine ensures that all three MPs are given something to cause them to blackout, and after Victoria dies, Francine uses a necklace to convince each of them that they were the murderer. And for fifteen years, they each do whatever she and Susan desire, because if they don’t they each believe that their careers will be ruined.’

  ‘But if Baker became PM, he would have more powers,’ M
onroe mused. ‘he would be able to find the necklace, remove it. Also with the information Michael found. He’d be able to open the security box.’

  ‘Maybe Francine didn’t want Baker to go that high?’ Anjli added. ‘Maybe he was more use to her in a cabinet?’

  ‘Either way, we know that things have gone horribly wrong,’ Declan finished. ‘Andy Mac wasn’t supposed to kill Sebastian. I don’t think Francine planned for Sebastian to return after he was adopted. I think he was working with someone else.’

  ‘So what now?’ Monroe turned to Trix. ‘What were you supposed to do next?’

  Trix didn’t reply, as if unsure what the answer actually was, but she was saved by Declan’s phone as it rang.

  ‘DI Walsh,’ he answered. After a moment, he clicked the phone on speaker.

  ‘Sorry Shaun, could you say that again?’ he asked.

  The voice of Shaun Donnal, half crazed and furious spoke down the line.

  ‘I’m ending this, Walsh,’ he said. ‘I’m taking all the traitors to the tower and I’m cutting their heads off!’ There was a background noise, as if Shaun was driving.

  ‘Shaun, don’t do anything stupid,’ Declan said.

  ‘They killed Andy!’ Shaun hissed. ‘I’ve got one of their guns. The man with the glasses and his buddy. And they won’t kill me before I BFA their asses. You hear me? It ends now, right where it started!’

  And with that the phone was disconnected. Declan looked to Billy, who glanced up from his laptop in horror. ‘That was Charles Baker’s personal mobile,’ he said.

  ‘Jesus Christ on a cross!’ Monroe exclaimed. ‘And now we’re gonna have more bloody deaths!’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Declan smiled. ‘Do you trust me?’

  ‘Do we have a bloody choice?’

  Declan looked to Billy again. ‘He’s left the phone on, right?’

  ‘I’m tracking it now. He’s heading south, down the…’ he trailed off. ‘He’s heading to Devington House.’

  Declan nodded. ‘I thought as much,’ he said, looking to Trix. ‘You’ve got one chance to get out of this mess. You text your boss and you tell her that I’m on my way right now, alone, to arrest Susan Devington for Victoria’s murder. You tell her to get there before me.’

  Trix nodded, typing in a text, pressing send. Declan took the phone from her, passing it to Billy.

  ‘Check where that’s gone to, and who else has contacted it recently,’ he ordered as he looked back to Monroe. ‘Very soon the Parliamentary Protection plod will realise that their next Prime Minister is missing, and they’ll race after him. I need you to delay them somehow, Guv. Call in favours, whatever.’

  ‘So you want Baker, Donnal, Pearce and Devington at the house?’ Monroe frowned. ‘Why?’

  ‘Because Shaun’s going to take them all up to the roof,’ Declan said with a smile. ‘And then just like Poirot, I’m going to arrive and let them tell me what really happened.’

  27

  Against The Clock

  Charles Baker was a man of very few habits, but the ones he had were ingrained over years. Every Saturday he would get up at 7am, drive to a small, unobtrusive gym about two miles away and spend a couple of hours running on the treadmill. He hated running on the street as he was always harassed by paparazzi, protestors and ungrateful constituents; he lived on the third floor of a rather exclusive apartment block and they had banned treadmills above the ground floor and to be brutally honest he was simply too busy to go down to the Parliamentary gym, as he could guarantee that for every ten minutes he spent in there, five of them would be spent telling backbenchers to sod off and leave him be.

  So instead he found other ways to keep fit during the week, and every Saturday he would run a half marathon on a treadmill, staring out at the front of the small non-league football club that was situated beside the gym. Sometimes footballers from the club would join him, preparing for match fitness, but they didn’t talk to him. Nobody there knew who he was, and that was exactly how he liked it.

  Part of the plan to keep this as off the books as possible was that he did this journey alone. As a high ranking member of the cabinet, he was supposed to have Specialist Protection bodyguards at all times; that stopped about three weeks after he took the position when he realised that running on a treadmill while non-uniformed muscle glared menacingly at anyone who approached didn’t really help with the anonymity. And so he’d joined a new club under a fake name while paying for a year in advance, and informed his protection unit that Saturdays effectively didn’t start for them until 10am. It was a plan that had worked well for close to a year.

  But Charles Baker was regretting it right now.

  He’d arrived at the gym as usual, and was happy to put out a personal best on the treadmill; he’d taken a shower, walked back to the car in the gym’s underground car park and had prepared to drive back to his London residence. He had a fete he was supposed to be attending that afternoon that he didn’t really want to go to, but he knew that hearts and minds of voters were important, especially while trying to grab the prize within his grasp. He’d also been told that Nigel and Tamara were also attending fetes and fairs that day, and he knew that if he didn’t, he might as well kiss goodbye to holding the news cycle. In fact he was so absorbed in the ways that he could use the fete publicity to his advantage, he completely missed Shaun Donnal walking up behind him as he opened the door to his car.

  He did however acknowledge the gun rammed into his back.

  ‘Hello, Charlie,’ Shaun hissed into his ear. ‘Time for a drive.’

  Charles hadn’t argued – what was the point when a paranoid drunk had a gun aimed at you? He simply climbed into the driver’s seat as Shaun clambered into the back. Shaun had demanded his phone and then, once Charles was about to start the car he felt Shaun move about in the back and then a noose of some kind of leather was looped around his neck, pulling his head against the headrest of the car. He wanted to pull at it, suddenly scared that Shaun had finally lost it and was going to strangle him in the vehicle but before he could, it loosened.

  ‘Don’t worry, I’m just keeping you in the seat,’ Shaun hissed, again into his ear. ‘It’s just my belt. If you pull forward? I pull back. So just sit calmly and keep your hands on the wheel at ten to two.’

  ‘What do you want, Shaun?’ Charles asked. ‘Money?’

  ‘Did you hear about Andrew?’ Shaun leaned in again. ‘Stupid bastard only went and hanged himself last night.’ He pulled on the belt, momentarily doing the same to Charles. The noose loosened again, and Charles gasped in a lung full of air as the click of a gun cocking was audible behind him.

  ‘Maybe I’ll just shoot you here,’ Shaun said, almost as if talking to someone else. ‘Nah. Not yet. We’re going to see some old friends first.’

  ‘Where are you taking me?’ Charles asked.

  ‘Start the car, Charlie,’ Shaun said, almost laughing. ‘We’re going to see your ex-girlfriend.’

  They’d been driving for about ten minutes, Shaun barking directions like some kind of manic sat nav before Charles realised that they were heading for Devington House. Shaun had used Charles’s phone then, calling some number that he’d read off a card in his hand.

  ‘I’m ending this, Walsh,’ he said into it. ‘I’m taking all the traitors to the tower and I’m cutting their heads off!’

  Charles assumed that Shaun was talking to DI Walsh, one of the two detectives that had spoken to him that week. This was good. The police knowing that Shaun was calling from Baker’s phone would surely bring the cavalry once they tracked it. All he had to do now was keep calm, drive to wherever they were going, allow Shaun to act out whatever weird suicide fantasy this was and stand by as the mad bastard was shot by armed police snipers.

  The image made him smile.

  ‘They killed Andy!’ Shaun hissed. ‘I’ve got one of their guns. The man with the glasses and his buddy. And they won’t kill me before I BFA their asses. You hear me? It ends now, right wh
ere it started!’

  With that Shaun tossed the phone aside. Charles was happy to see that it was still turned on.

  They could still track him.

  He could still find a way out of this.

  As if reading his mind, Shaun leaned forwards.

  ‘Did they tell you that you killed Victoria?’ he asked. ‘Did they show you the necklace, like they did me and Andy?’

  Charles choked on a response; partly due to shock and partly due to the belt around his neck. Shaun started to laugh.

  ‘Oh you poor bastard,’ he said, leaning back into the back seat, hand still holding the end of the belt. ‘You’re one step from being Prime Minister and you’re still too stupid to realise you’ve been played from the start.’

  Charles carried on driving, his eyes on the road. Soon they’d be at Devington House.

  And soon this would end.

  Francine Pearce ran to her own car, the man with the rimless glasses alongside her.

  ‘We should wait until support arrives!’ he exclaimed. ‘This could be dangerous. You need a plan, not just running into a fire like some—’

  ‘A plan?’ Francine stopped, glaring at the man with the rimless glasses. ‘Like the one you enacted this morning? Like the one where you allowed Shaun Donnal to escape?’ She opened the back passenger door. ‘We don’t need support. He’s just one man and you took him out last time with two blows to the head and a knee swipe. This time you can finish the job.’

  The man with the rimless glasses sighed with annoyance, but still clambered into the car behind the driver’s wheel.

  ‘At least take some protection,’ he said as he leaned to the side, reaching under the passenger’s seat.

  He stopped as he grasped at air.

  ‘Oh that little bastard,’ he hissed as he sat back up.

  ‘Another problem?’ Francine asked.

  ‘Nothing I can’t handle,’ the man with the rimless glasses said.

  ‘Good,’ Francine replied. ‘Then drive the bloody car now!’