‘And he did this while she was awake?’ said Francis. ‘That must have been agony. Any sign that he knocked her out or gagged her to stop her screaming?’
‘She took a blow to the head at some point,’ said Rose, ‘but I can’t tell how long she was out for.’
Rory looked like he was going to throw up and Francis could feel his own stomach churning.
‘Jesus,’ said Rory. ‘Whoever did this is an animal.’
‘And you really think it could be Alex Mullins?’ said Rose. ‘He’s just a kid.’
‘He’s nineteen,’ said Rory. ‘He’s got a background in tattooing and he’s linked to the victim. We have him on CCTV following her when she left the club.’
‘He was also in her hospital room when she died,’ added Francis. ‘He has to be our first port of call.’
He stared down at Tash’s body until Rose covered it with the sheet. Then he snapped to attention.
‘Rose, I need you to work as fast as you can on this to establish what exactly killed her. Rory, issue an arrest warrant for Alex Mullins. We need to talk to him right now.’
14
Tuesday, 15 August 2017
Marni
Drawing was Marni’s therapy. She could pour her angst onto the paper in dark, sweeping lines that would materialise into a spectacular tattoo. But when the lines didn’t come and the pencil in her right hand faltered, she knew she was in deep trouble. Alex still hadn’t come home – apparently, he was staying at Liv’s. She desperately wanted to see him, to comfort him, but he wasn’t even answering his phone. Things were no better with Thierry and the mood in the house was grim. Life seemed to be spiralling out of control and she needed to let her emotions out on the page.
Still unable to get hold of Alex, she took Pepper with her across to the studio. She felt calmer as soon as she let the door swing shut behind her, leaving the clamour of Gardner Street behind. Marching through to the back, she was itching to pick up a pencil.
But something was wrong.
She felt the draught of warm air on her face as soon as she opened the door that separated her workspace from the shopfront – the back door was open.
Pepper growled.
Hairs stood up on the back of her neck and she looked round frantically, but there was no one there. Everything seemed quiet. She checked the door for signs of a break-in, but it was simply swinging open on its hinges, with no sign of damage. Had she left it unlocked? She thought back to the previous afternoon, when she’d left in a hurry to confront Thierry. She could remember locking up the front of the shop after the client left, coming through to the back and then leaving by the back door. Yes, she was almost certain she’d locked it.
What the hell?
It only took a moment to spot it. On the shelf where she kept her tattoo irons there were spaces. Two were missing. She went over to that corner of the studio and did a rough inventory of her equipment. A power unit was missing, and a set of cables. There seemed fewer bottles of ink on the shelf above.
‘Bastard!’ She slammed the door shut, but it didn’t catch and bounced back open. Pepper moved forward to stand on the sill of the door, sniffing the air suspiciously. She called him away and closed it properly. She sighed. She must have left it open. Someone had come in and taken all they would need to start tattooing – but who would do such a thing?
She took her time to check the rest of the room, then went to her desk to jot down a list of what she thought had been taken. Was it worth the bother? There was no point calling the police – they wouldn’t be remotely interested. And why claim on her insurance? No break-in meant negligence on her part. It would only mean an astronomical rise in premiums next time she came to renew. At least the burglar had simply come in, taken what they wanted and scarpered, rather than trashing the place.
She leaned back in her chair, staring into space. When was she going to get a break? She felt shaken, hating the idea that someone had been nosing around in her studio while she wasn’t there. Some bloody kid who fancied tattooing his mates. That was all.
Any hope of concentrating was shot to pieces. She needed to see Alex. She needed to know that he was okay.
Of course he wasn’t okay.
Tash’s death would have been a massive shock to him. He’d publicly argued with her just hours before she was attacked. And now he’d gone to ground. Was he hiding from her or from the police?
Her hands were shaking by the time she locked up the shop.
Liv Templeton, her niece and Alex’s cousin, shared a house with three other students over in Hove. Marni drove there as fast as she could. When she banged her fist on the door, all she could hear was the sound of rock music coming from inside, certainly loud enough to drown out the sounds of her knocking. Marni bent down and peered through the letter box.
‘Liv?’ she yelled. ‘Are you there?’
There was no response and the music carried on thumping through the wall.
‘Liv? It’s Marni.’
The door opened and Marni practically fell through it. Liv Templeton stood back as Marni straightened up. She was wearing a short bathrobe that showed off tanned legs that seemed to go on for ever. Her hair was a mess and there was sleep crusted in the corner of her eyes. Marni could smell weed.
‘Aunt Marni?’
‘Where’s Alex? Is he here?’
Liv blinked. ‘Alex?’ she said, in some confusion.
Could she really have been asleep with this racket going on?
‘Yes, I’m looking for Alex,’ said Marni, trying not to lose her temper.
Liv answered through a yawn. ‘He was here, but he’s gone.’
‘Was he okay when you saw him? When was it?’
Liv finally seemed to wake up properly.
‘Oh God, he told me about Tash Brady,’ she said. ‘I can’t believe she’s really dead.’
‘How is he?’
‘He was talking about Tash, then he was talking about his father.’
‘Thierry?’
‘He said something like he didn’t think Thierry was his real father. I don’t know. He was stoned.’
Alarm bells went off in Marni’s head. ‘Tell me exactly what he said.’
‘Something about a letter. That was all. I wasn’t listening.’
What letter?
Liv rubbed her eyes. ‘I need coffee. Do you want to come in?’
Marni shook her head. ‘I need to find him, Liv.’
Liv Templeton shrugged and headed down the hall towards the kitchen.
‘If you hear from him, call me, yeah?’
She pulled the front door shut behind her and hurried back to her car. Getting into the deux chevaux felt like climbing into a blast furnace. The steering wheel was practically too hot to touch and prickles of sweat broke out across Marni’s top lip almost instantly.
All the way back to the house, her mind raced. What was the letter Liv had mentioned? Did this have something to do with Paul, Thierry’s twin? Was this why Alex had seemed so distant towards her over the last few months? Thierry was the only one who could have told Alex anything about what had happened in France twenty years ago. But he wouldn’t. Why would he?
It didn’t make sense. She jammed her foot against the accelerator.
As she turned into Great College Street, she saw blue lights flashing halfway down the road. There was a police car parked outside her house. She pulled up behind it, fear making her cold as she fiddled with the door catch. A policewoman watched her from the pavement, but didn’t step forward to help her open the door.
It was that bitch, Angie Burton.
Finally she got out of the car, drenched in sweat, hands shaking.
‘What’s going on here?’ She made a move towards her front door, but Angie Burton blocked her path.
‘Sorry, Mrs Mullins. I can’
t let you in quite yet. We’re not finished.’
‘Finished what?’ said Marni.
Angie Burton pursed her lips and said nothing, so Marni simply pushed past her and went along the pavement to her house. The front door was open and as she came level with it, two figures emerged.
Francis Sullivan and Alex.
Alex was handcuffed.
Marni didn’t stop to think for an instant. She blocked their way in just the same way Angie Burton had tried to block hers. But she wasn’t going to let them get around her.
‘What the hell, Frank? Let him go.’
‘Marni.’ Francis stopped in his tracks and put his left hand up to stop Alex.
‘Why’s he handcuffed? He hasn’t done anything.’
‘Sorry, Marni, but I need to take Alex in for questioning about Tash Brady’s death.’
‘Questioning? That looks like an arrest to me.’
‘Mum,’ said Alex. He sounded like a scared child and Marni felt like her heart was being ripped out.
‘Alex, when did you come home? How did they know you were here?’
Alex shrugged, his face crumpling.
‘We’ve been watching the house,’ said Francis. ‘We need to talk to Alex. He was with Tash Brady the night she was attacked and he was there when she died. He has to tell us exactly what happened.’
‘But you’re arresting him. Do you think he had something to do with it?’
‘We intend to find out.’ Francis’s tone was grim.
Marni felt a sudden urge to slap him, but she knew it wouldn’t help. She dug her hands into her jeans pockets to keep them under control.
‘I’ll come to the station with you,’ she said.
Alex’s eyes brightened for a second.
‘I’m afraid not,’ said Francis. ‘Alex is over eighteen. He’s an adult. Please, let us pass – the sooner we can get going, the sooner all this will be over.’
Never had a policeman’s words rung more hollow in Marni’s ears.
Defeated, Marni stepped to one side and then watched as Francis guided Alex into the squad car. He went around to the front passenger side and climbed in. Alex stared out of the car window at her, his brown eyes wide.
He needed a lawyer, quickly.
As the car drove off, Marni turned back to her front door. Angie Burton was once again blocking her path.
‘You can’t go inside yet, Mrs Mullins. We’re still searching the property.’ Beyond her, Marni could see movement behind her front windows.
‘What exactly are you searching for?’ said Marni.
‘Tattooing equipment,’ said Burton with bleak satisfaction. ‘The attacker tattooed Tash Brady as part of the attack. We need to find the equipment he used.’
Marni staggered and would have collapsed if Angie Burton hadn’t put a strong arm around her waist.
What if they found it in her house? In Alex’s room?
15
Tuesday, 15 August 2017
Rory
Kath Brady sat opposite Rory in the interview room, legs crossed, top foot kicking at the air in a pointed, stiletto-heeled sandal. She looked strung out and, although her legs sported a healthy tan, her face was a couple of shades paler and her eyes red-rimmed.
‘He did it and I want him brought in, Sergeant Mackay.’
This came at the end of a rant about Alex Mullins and his part in her daughter’s death.
‘With all due respect, Mrs Brady, DI Sullivan decides who gets brought in for questioning. However, rest assured, as soon as he turns up, we’ll be talking to him.’
‘I want him charged with murder, not just questioned. Whether or not he’s the man that attacked her, it’s plain to me he’s responsible – he let her walk home on her own. He didn’t protect her. And he was the one in her room, fiddling with her heart monitor right before she . . .’ She couldn’t finish the sentence, covering her mouth with her hand.
Rory listened with growing disbelief. They weren’t even sure it was murder yet.
‘Leave it to us, please, to do our job. It would probably be better if you went home, Mrs Brady.’
He stood up. Sure, he was sorry about what had happened to the girl. But he’d had enough of humouring the woman while she told him how to do his job. She bristled at him, but followed him out into the reception area of the police station.
‘Make sure you call me when you finally get around to charging him,’ she said.
‘Of course,’ said Rory. Not bloody likely.
He put a firm hand on her back and started propelling her towards the double doors onto the street – which at that moment opened as someone came in. It was Francis Sullivan, with Alex Mullins by his side. The boy was handcuffed.
Oh, perfect fucking timing, boss.
‘See, sergeant? Your inspector is a lot more on the ball than you are.’ Kath Brady turned to Alex, who stood waiting as Francis went across to talk to the desk sergeant. ‘I hope you rot in hell for what you did to my daughter.’
Alex scowled and looked pointedly at the floor.
Good for him, thought Rory, for not reacting. Not that it made the kid any less likely to have done it. Not with his family background.
The door swung open again and Marni Mullins burst into the station. She was panting, and sweat glistened on her brow and top lip.
Faced with a fresh audience, Kath Brady couldn’t leave things alone. She jabbed a finger into Alex’s chest. ‘You killed my daughter, you bastard.’ Her voice was harsh and shrill and the atmosphere in the reception area became electric.
Marni Mullins bridled with anger. ‘What the fuck . . .?’
Alex Mullins stiffened and started working his mouth. Rory realised long before Kath Brady did what the boy was going to do. As Rory jostled Kath away towards the door, Alex spat with force. Instead of catching Kath right in the face, thanks to Rory’s actions the glob of spittle landed on the shoulder of her linen jacket.
Kath Brady gasped, repulsed and shocked by the missile that had hit her.
Marni looked neither shocked, nor amused, by what her son had done.
‘You’ll charge him for that, sergeant?’ Brady’s voice was still shrill.
Rory had had enough. He bundled her towards the double doors that led out of the building.
‘Wait.’ Brady stopped level with Marni Mullins, eye to eye.
For fuck’s sake!
In the confined space, the two women faced off. Kath Brady, the taller of the pair, looked haughtily down her nose at Marni. Marni practically snarled in return.
‘Your son is going down for this,’ hissed Brady, squeezing past her to the door.
Marni turned to follow her, fists clenched, mouth wide with surprise.
A well-dressed woman in a sleek grey business suit came in. She nodded at Marni as she assessed what was happening, then put a hand on Marni’s forearm and held her back. ‘Come on, Mrs Mullins. We came here for Alex.’
As Kath Brady left the building, the expression on her face turned to one of smug satisfaction.
Marni went to Alex and hugged him, while the smart woman addressed herself to Francis.
‘Good afternoon, you’re DI Sullivan?’
‘I am,’ said Francis.
‘My name is Jayne Douglas. I’ll be representing Alex Mullins.’
‘Has he instructed you yet?’
‘I’ve been retained by his mother.’
‘Alex is an adult and will need to retain his own representation.’
The boss was good. Of course, he still had a lot to learn, but he showed flashes of potential.
‘He will retain me.’
‘Miss Douglas, please take a seat. I need to process him into the station. You can see him later if he decides to instruct you.’
Looking thoroughly pissed off at
being dismissed in this way, Jayne Douglas turned to Marni. ‘This is going to take some time, I think.’ As Francis led Alex away through the doors on the other side of the reception area, she called after him. ‘Don’t think you can question my client without me being present.’
Francis stopped and turned back to her.
‘Like I said, he’s not your client yet. And he hasn’t been charged. He’s just helping with enquiries. If he co-operates with me, he’ll be out much quicker.’
He pushed Alex through the door and banged it shut behind him. Rory pulled out his key card, reopened the door and followed him through.
Francis was waiting for him.
‘Mackay, can you interview Alex Mullins?’
Rory was amazed. ‘Why not you? He’s our prime suspect.’
‘It wouldn’t be appropriate.’
‘What? Because Marni Mullins helped out in a previous case? That’s water under the bridge, boss.’
‘Rory, I know the family.’ His cheeks blazed bright red. ‘Marni Mullins and I . . .’
Rory was about to say ‘What?’ but managed to bite his tongue – though not before his eyebrows had shot up. He took a deep breath and nodded. Had the boss just admitted to having some sort of affair with the Mullins woman? Seriously?
‘Sure, I’ll do the interview. No problem.’
Those two? He would never have put them together.
Rory and Angie sat on one side of the table. Alex sat on the other. The tiny interview room had no windows and with the door closed, the air seemed as thick as treacle. Rory stripped off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves – his armpits were already clammy and wet.
He dug into the breast pocket of his discarded jacket for his mobile and dialled the incident room.
‘Kyle, see if you can track down a fan and bring it to interview room two, thanks.’
They’d offered to bring in the solicitor to sit through the interview, but Alex Mullins had declined. Not necessarily the wisest move, but Rory was good with it. At nineteen Alex was an adult and could make decisions for himself. And they’d made it clear to him, and the lawyer, that at this stage he was just being interviewed as a witness – even if it was obvious to everyone that he was currently their prime suspect.
Her Last Breath: The new crime thriller from the international bestseller (Sullivan and Mullins) Page 8