‘Isn’t everything?’
‘How did you get out of lessons?’
‘Told them I’d had enough, I wanted to go home.’ He cleared his throat. ‘And I had. Those two officers that came…’
‘What?’
‘Do you know them?’
Caelan hesitated. ‘Not really. I’ve met DS Somerville before.’
‘She was all right, but him… It was like he was trying to wind me up.’
‘How?’
‘Like I said, pretending we were friends. Talking about music, clothes, all sorts of shit.’ Joseph glanced at her, as if checking whether she was going to reprimand him for his language. When she didn’t comment, he continued. ‘He said he’d been mates with Ben, but I didn’t believe him. Did he know him?’
‘I don’t know,’ Caelan said truthfully.
‘I didn’t trust them, him. So I said I needed a break, and sent you the text.’
Caelan had received it as she had entered Westminster Underground station. Joseph had asked her to meet him, said he wanted to talk. She had hurried to Northolt before he had changed his mind. She’d inform Achebe and Somerville later.
‘What did they want?’ she asked him.
‘Don’t you know? I thought you worked with them.’
‘Not exactly. Different departments.’
He shot her a glance, but didn’t comment. After a few seconds he said, ‘They were asking about some dodgy place. Wanted to know if Ben had talked to me about it.’
‘Did they say where?’
‘A hotel.’ He nodded left as they reached the end of the road. ‘This way.’
When they were settled at a table at the back of the restaurant, Joseph tucking into a double cheeseburger and fries, Caelan tried again.
‘About this hotel…’
He chewed, swallowed. ‘I told them I didn’t know what they were talking about.’
Caelan took a drink of her strawberry milkshake, wincing at the ache in her bruised cheek as she sucked on the straw. ‘Was that the truth?’
Joseph picked up a few fries, pushed the carton towards Caelan. ‘Have some. It was, and it wasn’t.’
‘Meaning?’
‘Meaning, I knew Ben had been going out late, staying out all night sometimes, but I didn’t think anything of it. He’s… He was twenty-three. I thought he had a girlfriend and he was staying at hers.’
Caelan ate some fries. ‘Did you ask him about it?’
‘Nah. Well, I teased him, you know. Asked who she was, if I could see a photo. He just smiled.’
‘He didn’t say any more?’
‘No. And I left it. None of my business, I thought.’ Joseph bent his head to his burger again, didn’t look up until he’d finished the last mouthful. ‘Seems I was wrong.’
‘Wrong?’
‘Well, he’s dead, isn’t he?’ He stared at her, and she saw the tears in his eyes. ‘And then you started asking if he talked to me about his work.’
Here it comes, Caelan thought. ‘And did he?’
‘No. I told you, he knew he couldn’t. Even if we asked him about it, he didn’t say much.’ Joseph shifted in his seat. ‘You remember I said they came and searched our room?’
‘Yes. It’s standard procedure in a—’
‘Murder inquiry,’ he interrupted. ‘I know. That’s what they kept telling me.’ He bent down, picked up his school bag. He unzipped a pocket, removed something. ‘Here. I’ve kept this with me since Ben died. I didn’t know… I wasn’t sure what to do.’ He reached over the table. Caelan held out her hand and he dropped a mobile phone into it.
‘What’s this?’
He shrugged, not stating the obvious. ‘It was Ben’s. He kept it under his pillow; it wasn’t the one he normally used. I caught him looking at it one night, and he didn’t want to talk about it. That’s when I thought he had a girlfriend, something private.’
Caelan turned the phone over. It was a basic smartphone, turned off. ‘Have you looked at it, read the texts or call log?’
Joseph shook his head. ‘It’s password-protected. The battery’s dead now too. You have people who’ll be able to get into it, don’t you?’
‘Yeah, shouldn’t be a problem. Thank you, Joseph.’ She put the handset down on the table, wrapped it in a couple of napkins. ‘Why did you hide it? I assume you took it before your room was searched?’ She hid her anger, knowing he had done what he thought was right. She didn’t tell him he had withheld potentially crucial evidence. She could see from his expression that he knew he had been wrong.
‘Yeah, I’m sorry.’ He dipped his head, looking embarrassed. ‘I thought… Well, I suppose I was protecting Ben. I didn’t want anyone poking around in his private stuff.’ He looked up, rubbed his eyes. Picked up his drink. ‘I know I should have told you before, but Dad was there, and… well, I didn’t want to upset him.’
‘Why? This phone could be vital, Joseph. It might help us find the person who killed Ben.’ She spoke quietly, but there was no mistaking her tone. He chewed his bottom lip, and she was reminded how young he was.
‘Yeah, I get that. I’m sorry.’
‘Did Ben speak to you about a place in Hackney?’
He was frowning. ‘What place?’
‘The hotel. You mentioned it before?’
‘No. Why would Ben be in Hackney?’
She could see he knew nothing about the brothel. She took out her phone, thumbed a text to Achebe. Joseph watched her.
‘What are you doing?’ he asked.
‘Asking someone to come and collect the phone. We need to get to work on it.’
He pushed back his chair, began to stand. ‘Then I’m leaving. I’m going to be in the shit about this, aren’t I?’
‘No. When did you take the phone?’
He picked up his rucksack, slung it over his shoulder. ‘As soon as I knew Ben… wasn’t coming home.’
‘Then he can’t have taken it with him on the night he died?’
Joseph stared at her, tears beginning to fall. He wiped an impatient hand across his cheeks. ‘No. Otherwise it would have been found on his body, wouldn’t it?’
‘And it wasn’t, because you had it.’ She watched him, wondering if he would make the connection. Whoever had killed Ben Rainey might have been looking for this phone.
Joseph shifted from foot to foot. ‘Listen, I’m going to head off, yeah?’
She leaned back in her chair. ‘You’re sure there’s no more you can tell me?’
‘No, I swear.’
‘Joseph, listen. You’ve done the right thing giving this to me. Remember, if you see anything that concerns you, worries you, call me.’
He hesitated. ‘You think I’m in danger?’
‘Whoever killed Ben didn’t stop there. Another man is dead, someone we think could be linked to your brother. I’m asking you to be careful. Tell your sister too.’
His eyes widened as realisation dawned. ‘You think they were looking for the phone?’
‘I don’t know. It might be coincidence, totally irrelevant. Maybe your brother really did have a secret girlfriend. Until we see what information the phone can give us, I don’t know.’
‘All right, I hear you. I get it.’
He walked away, lifting his hand as he reached the door. As it swung closed behind him, Caelan’s phone began to ring. Achebe didn’t bother with a greeting.
‘Jen Somerville’s on her way. Why didn’t you call her? You knew she was in the area.’
‘Because Joseph asked me not to. He didn’t want to speak to the DC she had with her again.’
‘Jesus. All right. Let’s hope the phone gives us something. God knows we’ve nothing else to go on.’
‘Are you at the prison?’ Caelan could hear shouting in the background.
‘Yeah, though coming here’s been a waste of time. You’re heading back to Edmonton?’
‘When I’ve spoken to DS Somerville.’
‘Okay. Thanks, Caelan.’
Achebe ended the call, and Caelan picked up her milkshake again. He had sounded pissed off, and she couldn’t blame him. Joseph Rainey had held onto the phone for three weeks, and Achebe’s officers had missed that he was hiding something when they interviewed him. If Ben’s murderers had been so determined to find the phone, though, wouldn’t they have tried again? Broken into the Raineys’ house, grabbed Joseph or Miriam? Or perhaps they had gone to Anthony Bryce instead, aware of a link between him and Ben Rainey the police still didn’t know about. Caelan slurped the last of her milkshake, a headache beginning to creep around her temples.
‘Didn’t you get me a burger?’ Jen Somerville strode over, dropped into the chair Joseph Rainey had sat in.
‘Do you want one?’ Caelan began to stand, but Somerville waved her away.
‘I’m joking,’ she said. ‘Have you got the phone?’ Caelan pointed to it, bundled in the napkins on the table. ‘Good. Achebe’s going mental. Says we should have found it weeks ago.’ She ran a hand through her hair, frowning. ‘Not sure how we could have done when the brother hid it and didn’t say a word.’ She grabbed the phone, shoved it into an evidence bag. ‘Whole case is a bloody nightmare.’
‘I doubt the phone will tell us much,’ said Caelan. Somerville leaned forward, elbows on the table.
‘Me neither, but we need to check it out, tick the box. If the phone was so important, why did the brother still have it? Why didn’t whoever killed Rainey find him and take it? He’s only a kid; it wouldn’t have taken much to persuade him to part with it.’
‘I don’t know,’ said Caelan, though Somerville was echoing her own thoughts. ‘Maybe they didn’t know, or it wasn’t what they wanted. Or it could be Ben Rainey didn’t tell them anything, despite the torture. None of it makes sense.’
Somerville stared at her. ‘Or maybe it does.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Anthony Bryce was strangled, Ben Rainey was stabbed with a screwdriver. I’ve been wondering why they weren’t killed in the same way.’
‘Should they have been?’
‘No, but… Think about it. If someone had been torturing Rainey,’ Somerville winced as she said the word, ‘and he hadn’t given them what they wanted, maybe they lost their rag and stabbed him in frustration, in anger.’
Caelan was nodding. ‘Whereas Bryce could have given them what they wanted quickly. Or they throttled him until he did, then finished the job.’
‘I’ll mention it to DCI Achebe. It’s supposition, of course, but…’ Somerville’s phone beeped and she checked the screen. ‘I need to go.’
‘Me too. I’m going to send Frankie Hamilton a text, see if he wants to meet up later.’
‘Before his interview with us?’ Somerville bared her teeth. ‘That’ll be nice.’
‘Gives me something to look forward to.’ Caelan smiled.
Somerville got to her feet. ‘I didn’t see you, you know.’
‘What?’
‘You were there, weren’t you? When we left Joseph Rainey’s school?’
‘In the bus shelter,’ Caelan felt obliged to admit. ‘I saw you drive away.’
Somerville nodded, her face tightening.
‘Must give you a kick, being able to do whatever you want.’ There was a bite in her tone Caelan hadn’t heard before.
‘What do you mean?’ she asked.
‘You could have told us you were there, that Joseph Rainey had contacted you. You chose not to.’ Somerville tossed her head. ‘Not a team player, are you?’
‘Wait a second. Joseph trusted me. Your DC patronised him, and he didn’t want to talk. He had my number, decided to give me a call instead.’
‘Whatever you say.’
‘We have the phone now. Does it matter how we got it?’
Somerville’s cheeks were red. ‘Apparently not. See you around.’
19
Was it the fourth cup of tea Adam had brought her, or the fifth? Liv Hobbs had lost count. He didn’t seem to know what else to do. She curled on the sofa, her ribs still sore, her head thumping. Her brother was dead. Since she had first heard the news, she had kept repeating the words in her mind as she attempted to make sense of it. It wasn’t working. She and Jackson hadn’t seen or spoken to each other for years, and if anyone had asked, she would have said she rarely even thought about him. But the news of his murder had hit her like a body blow. She had crumpled, her arms wrapped around her body, blindly stumbling towards a chair. She’d asked them to repeat what they had said. Tim Achebe and Jen Somerville, her colleagues and her friends, breaking the news as gently as they could. She remembered a moan escaping her lips, Tim’s arm around her shoulders, Jen’s hand clutching hers. Adam had been at work, but he had soon appeared, his face bewildered. She’d reached for him and he’d held her, rocking her in his arms until she was able to speak. Tim and Jen had explained what little they knew, then left with promises to keep her updated. Now she and Adam sat together, drinking tea and wondering what the hell was going on. She looked at her husband: the tired eyes, the pale cheeks.
‘Why don’t you go to bed?’ she said.
He stared. ‘What? I’m not leaving you, Liv.’
‘You must be exhausted.’
He shook his head, attempted a smile. Jackson had been at their wedding, but Adam had never known him well. When Liv had joined the police and her family had made their feelings about her decision clear, Adam had been there to support her. He’d told her it was her life, and if her family didn’t like her choices, it was their loss. Now, imagining her parents holding each other, comforting each other, she wasn’t sure.
Adam kissed her cheek. ‘You okay?’
She wasn’t, and he knew it, but what else was there to say? Her body felt as though it was floating, her limbs heavy and light at the same time. She lifted the tea to her lips, though she didn’t want to drink it. Took a tiny sip.
‘I feel I should be with my mum and dad,’ she said softly.
Adam frowned. ‘Really? Why? You think they’ll want to see you?’
‘I don’t know.’ She looked at him, saw the hurt in his eyes. ‘You’re being amazing, Ad, but… I don’t know. I always told Jackson he’d end up dead because of the way he lived his life. I didn’t expect to be right.’ She scrubbed at her face.
Adam pulled away from her, got to his feet. ‘You want me to come with you? I’ll drive, wait outside the house if you like.’
He thought she was making a mistake, she could hear it in his voice. He was probably right, but she knew she had to try.
‘No, it’s okay. I’ll get the Tube.’
‘Sure?’ He looked down at her. ‘Are you going to tell them…?’
Despite it all, she managed a smile. ‘No. Not now.’
‘Be careful. They might slam the door in your face.’
‘If they even open it. I know. I’ll be okay.’
He held out a hand, helped her off the sofa. Liv held him close, her head against his chest.
‘Are you certain you want to go alone?’ he said into her hair.
She pulled away. ‘I think I have to.’
He nodded, followed her up the stairs. Liv washed her face, bathed her swollen eyes. She didn’t bother to change out of her jeans and washed-out T-shirt. Didn’t check her hair or apply make-up. She put on her coat and picked up her bag, knowing she had to leave the house before her courage failed her.
20
Caelan stood on the train beside an elderly man who kept sneezing into a crumpled tissue. In front of her, a younger man appeared to be asleep on his feet. He had a rucksack on his back, which kept digging into Caelan’s body as the train lurched and jolted. She closed her eyes, willing the journey to be over, though she knew she wouldn’t arrive at Edmonton Green station for at least forty minutes. She would have to speak to Frankie Hamilton again, meet him if she could. She suppressed a groan as she remembered his lascivious gaze and his wet lips on her cheek. They needed information about the Edmonton drug scene,
and Hamilton was the best lead they had. Speaking to him could be vital, but she had reservations, and resolved to call Penrith when she could to discuss it again.
At Seven Sisters, she got off the train and walked until she had a phone signal. Penrith answered immediately.
‘Problem?’
‘Maybe.’ Caelan glanced around, making sure she couldn’t be overheard. ‘The interview with Hamilton – can it be postponed?’
She heard Penrith sucking his teeth. ‘Why?’
‘The reason I gave before.’
‘You think he’ll realise that him being interviewed is linked to yesterday evening’s hot date with you?’
‘It’s a possibility.’
‘I don’t think we need to be concerned. If you’re right about someone trying to run him over last night, he won’t be surprised if some friendly coppers turn up wanting a chat.’
‘Are you serious? I was the only person who saw it happen. I told him to report it, but there was no way he was going to. It’s another link to me. He can’t be interviewed today.’
‘Then when do you suggest we do it? In a week? A month? When you’ve retired?’ Penrith took a breath, and when he spoke again, it was with authority. ‘You’ve been given your instructions. Contact Hamilton, speak to him. Find out what he knows, then call me. We’ll make the decision about him being interviewed then. I’ll speak to Achebe.’
He was gone. Reluctantly, Caelan found Hamilton’s number and sent him a text suggesting they meet for a drink. She didn’t want to go back to the Red Lion, but she had no idea where else to suggest.
As she arrived at Edmonton Green station, her phone pinged with a reply. Hamilton said he was at a snooker club and she was welcome to join him. Caelan typed the name of the place into her phone and discovered it was a five-minute walk away. She found it without difficulty, though from the outside it looked about as welcoming as she had expected. She stood on the opposite side of the road, watching a group of four men smoking and talking outside. Hamilton wasn’t one of them. She pretended to tie her shoelace, checking the lie of the land. An old trick, but effective. The entrance, a battered wooden door, was behind the group of men, between a dry cleaner’s shop and a bookmaker’s. The snooker hall was on the first floor, its windows shuttered. There might be another way out, a fire escape at the back, but she doubted it. She didn’t like places with only one escape route.
Tell No Lies Page 16