‘Or he was keeping his nose clean, waiting for Jackson Hobbs to arrive. He wouldn’t want to be moved from the wing or the prison itself if he’d been ordered to get rid of Hobbs.’
‘There was no guarantee Hobbs would have started his sentence in that prison, though. He could have been sent anywhere,’ Penrith pointed out.
‘Maybe Aaron Jacob was told it was a possibility Hobbs would be arriving. Plans would have had to have been made in advance.’
‘Goes without saying.’ Penrith was impatient. ‘You know how we’re approaching it.’
She did. Richard Adamson was probably already preparing for his first night behind bars. She didn’t envy him. Prison was a place she had no desire to ever be asked to infiltrate.
‘Is he safe?’
‘Jacob? Safe as you can be locked in a cell in a police station. What do you mean?’
Caelan ran a hand across her mouth. ‘Suicide watch?’
‘You think…?’
‘I don’t know, but Aaron Jacob is a loose end. He’s looking at spending the rest of his life in prison. Who knows what he’ll be pressured into doing next?’
Penrith was typing; she could hear keys clicking. ‘Jacob is already on suicide watch. And Marcus, the man you asked me about? Marcus Crowley’s a possibility. I’m looking at his record now.’
‘And?’
‘He’s come to our attention a couple of times, but there are no convictions. There’s some intel about possible gang activity, but—’
Caelan sat up straight. ‘Gang activity?’
‘It was never confirmed.’
‘But someone was keeping their eye on him?’
Penrith was still typing. ‘His name was mentioned in an interview after a fatal stabbing. The victim was a gang member. Crowley was fifteen at the time.’
‘How old is he now? Twenty-five?’
‘Twenty-four, as of last month.’
‘The same age as Ben Rainey and Anthony Bryce.’ Caelan swung her feet to the floor and stood.
‘Probably a coincidence.’
‘Maybe. Where did Marcus Crowley grow up?’
There was a pause. Caelan visualised Penrith peering at his computer screen, running a chunky finger down the text as he read. ‘Hounslow, born and bred,’ he said eventually.
Caelan was at the living room window, watching two figures on bikes circling the playground. As they neared each other, one reached out to the other. It was difficult to see exactly what had changed hands, but she could guess. ‘Like Anthony Bryce,’ was all she said.
‘And thousands of other people.’
‘Come on, Ian. It needs to be looked at.’ Their business complete, the pair on the bikes disappeared, heading in different directions.
‘Oh, I agree. I’ll pass the information on to DCI Achebe. We need to confirm whether Crowley is the man you met.’ He didn’t wait for her response. ‘What are your plans for the rest of the day?’
Caelan was deliberately, provocatively casual. ‘I was assuming Frankie Hamilton would be in touch.’
‘Not for a while. Like I said, he’s not even arrived for interview yet.’
‘Then what do you suggest? Why am I here?’
He made a sound of exasperation. ‘Don’t ask me.’
‘Helpful.’
‘I try. We’ll speak later.’
Caelan pushed the phone into her pocket, sat on the sofa again. Marcus Crowley, a man the same age as Ben Rainey and Anthony Bryce, with a possible gang background. Did it matter? Was it significant? The lack of information provided by Penrith hadn’t helped. If she was going to speak to Crowley again, she needed to know more. Had Penrith even found the right man? How would she know? She needed to see a mugshot.
Decision made, she headed out of the door.
21
‘What are you doing here?’
DCI Tim Achebe looked tired, and not a little pissed off. Caelan risked a smile.
‘I need some information.’
Achebe’s hands were on his hips. ‘And a phone call wouldn’t have done? We have Frankie Hamilton downstairs. What if he’d seen you?’
‘He didn’t. He won’t.’ Caelan tried to look over Achebe’s shoulder into the incident room, hoping to see Jen Somerville.
‘You shouldn’t be here. I suppose you’re expecting to watch his interview?’ Achebe checked his watch.
‘Well, I wasn’t, but if you’re offering…’
‘I’m not. What do you want to know?’ Achebe had obviously decided to control his irritation and let her have her say.
‘Marcus Crowley.’
Achebe stared, uncomprehending. ‘Who’s he?’
‘Possibly no one, possibly a dealer in Edmonton our intel didn’t mention. Have you heard of him? Have the NCA listed his name?’
‘No.’ Achebe turned, waved to one of the uniformed officers busy in the room behind him. ‘Can you find DS Somerville for me, please?’
‘Isn’t she interviewing Hamilton?’ Caelan asked. Achebe gave a grim smile.
‘Not yet. He’s shit-faced. We can’t question him until he sobers up.’
‘He was well on his way when I saw him. I want to know where he went when he left me.’
‘We found him at home, which I’d guess is about a twenty-minute walk from the snooker hall. Would he have had time to go anywhere else in between?’
Caelan pursed her lips. ‘Probably not. He spoke to someone then. Do we have his phone?’
Achebe nodded. ‘But no reason to poke around in his texts or call records – yet.’
She knew he was right, but it was frustrating. ‘He wanted to make sure someone knew about Jackson Hobbs’s death. Could be important.’
‘Could be vital, but we can’t question him yet. There’s no point until he knows what he’s saying.’
‘He’s that drunk?’ Caelan found it hard to believe. Hamilton had clearly had a few drinks when she had spoken to him, but she wouldn’t have described him as drunk.
‘He appears to be.’ Achebe didn’t seem convinced. ‘I don’t want to risk him claiming later down the line that he was incapable, if he gives us information we end up relying on. You know how crap like that can come back to haunt us.’
‘Unless he downed a bottle of vodka when he left the snooker club, I don’t see how he can be paralytic now.’
‘Maybe he smoked something on his way home. I don’t know. All I can say is, he’s off his face on something.’
‘It seems convenient.’
‘I know, but I doubt he could fake being sick.’
‘He’s vomited?’
Achebe screwed up his face. ‘Several times.’
‘Okay. Can we talk about Crowley?’
‘Why not.’
‘Why didn’t we know about him?’
He held up his hands. ‘Tell me what you’ve found out.’
She filled him in about their meeting. ‘He was cocky, confident. He’s also the same age as Rainey and Bryce.’
‘And he’s originally from Hounslow.’ Achebe clicked his fingers. ‘All right. Let’s see what we can find out.’ He stepped backwards, moving away from the door, and Caelan followed him inside. Achebe sat at a free computer, nodded Caelan into the chair beside him. Jen Somerville appeared in the doorway, frowning as she saw them.
‘What’s going on, boss?’ she asked.
Achebe filled her in on what Caelan had told him. ‘Have we heard anything about Ben Rainey’s phone yet?’
‘No. I was going to chase them again after the interview.’
‘Which has been postponed. Do it now.’ Achebe turned his attention to the keyboard, leaving Somerville open-mouthed. She shot Caelan a glare as she marched away.
‘Any need?’ Caelan said.
Achebe exhaled sharply. ‘Probably not. I’ll apologise later.’ He snatched at the mouse. ‘This case has been going on too long. I’m getting grief from above.’ He tapped on the keyboard, waited, jabbed a finger at the monitor. ‘This the man you
met?’
Caelan took in the cropped hair, the defiant brown eyes. ‘Yep.’
‘Marcus Marvin Crowley.’ Achebe skimmed his record, then squinted at her. ‘You know how to pick them.’
‘He approached me.’
‘On the off chance you wanted to do business? Someone he’d never heard of or met before?’ He tapped out a rhythm on the desk. ‘Bit of a coincidence.’
‘Yeah, another one.’
‘Meaning?’
‘I don’t know. He didn’t say anything incriminating, and he’s going to ask around about me.’
Achebe shifted in his chair. ‘I’m not sure Hamilton being brought in so soon after you saw him is a good idea.’
‘I raised concerns myself, but…’
‘You were overruled?’ he asked.
‘I’ve been wrong before. Penrith thinks I’m complicating matters, seeing links that aren’t there.’ She smiled. ‘Again.’
Achebe was silent, clearly considering what to do next. ‘All right. Stay for Hamilton’s interview.’
‘How long until you can do it?’
‘He was singing when they brought him in, then, like I said, he started puking. No idea.’
‘Lovely. Can we check something else?’
‘The snooker hall?’ Achebe’s hands moved over the keyboard again, opening up another search. ‘It’s owned by…’ They waited as the computer whirred and clicked. ‘Still steam-powered,’ he muttered. Under the desk, his knee was bouncing. Caelan blinked when she saw the name appear.
‘Shit,’ she said. ‘What do we do?’
Achebe was already pushing back his chair. ‘We bring Crowley in.’ His jaw was set, his face grim. Caelan stepped in front of him.
‘Tim, wait. We can’t. Frankie Hamilton told me his mate owned the place, but he didn’t give me a name. If we bring Crowley in now, it’ll be obvious I’ve been poking around.’
‘And?’
‘As far as Crowley knows, I’m some woman he wants to impress, someone who’s looking to do business. He doesn’t trust me yet, but if Ian’s done his job properly, he soon will. We can use Crowley. I can use him.’
Achebe shifted his feet, clearly not liking what he was hearing. ‘Don’t want to blow your cover, is that it?’
Caelan lifted her shoulders. ‘It makes sense. We don’t know for sure that Crowley’s involved in the murders of Rainey and Bryce, but we’re pretty sure he’s in the drugs game. We could send him down for the rest of his life if we do this properly.’
He was shaking his head. ‘It’s too risky.’
‘Not your problem. If we bring Crowley in now, we’ll expose the whole Edmonton operation. I’m here, but Richard’s in jail, Nicky’s still out there. We’ll be putting them both at risk. These aren’t people that piss around with warnings, Tim.’ Caelan spoke urgently. This could be huge.
‘That’s your worry, Nicky and Richard’s safety?’ He shook his head. ‘We’ll call them in.’
‘Not without Assistant Commissioner Beckett’s say-so, and she won’t like it. It’s too early, we don’t know enough. There’s no evidence. Not yet.’
‘We now know Marcus Crowley owns the snooker hall himself. We could guess he’s got cash he needs to wash through a legit business.’ Achebe narrowed his eyes at her. ‘Plus the money he’d have needed to buy the place. Wonder where that could be coming from, especially considering his age.’
‘He’ll have some bullshit story about an inheritance or a gambling win. We’ve nothing concrete, and Crowley will know it. We can’t touch him, not yet.’ She took a step towards Achebe, willing him to understand.
He said, ‘What about the NCA? Reid and Webster? We’ll have to speak to them.’
‘They were supposed to have identified the drug dealers in Edmonton, so why didn’t they know about Crowley?’
‘They couldn’t have been aware of all of them, it’s impossible.’
‘They were half-hearted, half-arsed,’ Caelan said. ‘They didn’t seem to understand that in our game, the wrong information can get people killed.’
‘They didn’t care.’ Achebe was firm. ‘What you said about Ben Rainey doing some investigating of his own, playing at being a detective while he was still a PC – were you serious?’
‘It’s possible, isn’t it?’
‘Yeah, but…’ Achebe bunched his fists. ‘None of this makes sense. Rainey and Bryce grew up a few miles apart; they’re both dead, both tortured, bodies found in the same area, but they didn’t know each other.’
Caelan pursed her lips, thinking about it. ‘Are we sure?’
Achebe stared. ‘What do you mean?’
‘You said Bryce was questioned after Rainey’s death. Why?’
‘Because he’d given us information about a new dealer in Edmonton. We had your colleague Nicky on the street, and then a dead copper turns up. We panicked, wanted to see what Bryce knew.’
‘But he couldn’t help?’ Caelan watched Achebe’s face.
‘No. He didn’t recognise Rainey, said he’d never seen him before.’
‘And this was after Jackson Hobbs was sentenced?’
‘Yeah, a couple of months after, I think.’
‘Okay.’ Caelan began to pace. ‘So Bryce came to you with the information about a new dealer being in Edmonton after Jackson Hobbs was arrested?’
Achebe licked his lips. ‘Yes.’
‘After Liv Hobbs transferred onto your team?’
‘What are you suggesting?’ His voice was quiet, but there was no mistaking his tone.
Caelan shrugged. ‘You think it’s a coincidence?’
‘Is there another possibility? Are you suggesting Liv is somehow involved in her brother’s schemes? You’re on dangerous ground.’
‘Not what I said. I’m trying to figure out a timeline. I don’t understand why someone would crash into Liv Hobbs, then have her brother killed. If it was a warning to Jackson, what were they asking him to do?’
‘If he still had people selling for him in Edmonton, maybe he was being asked to call them off, or move them on.’
Caelan considered it. ‘Makes sense. But why use his sister, someone he’s estranged from?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe because she’s a copper? Maybe whoever this new dealer is was making a point, saying no one is untouchable?’
‘And Jackson Hobbs didn’t do what they wanted, so they killed him?’
Achebe glanced at his watch again. ‘Like I said, no one’s untouchable. We need Aaron Jacob to start talking.’
‘You think he will?’
‘Who knows? He’s no doubt been warned what will happen to him, or more likely to his family, if he does.’
‘What about a possible gang link?’ Caelan held up her hands as Achebe exhaled. ‘Hear me out. Rainey, Bryce and Crowley are the same age, and they grew up near each other. Crowley’s name was linked with a gang killing ten years ago.’
‘And what, since then he’s stayed out of trouble?’ Achebe’s voice was tight. ‘Yes, the three of them were or are young, black, and male. Does it automatically follow they were members of a gang?’
‘Of course not.’
‘No. I get we have to consider the possibility, but… Listen, they lived in different areas, had different postcodes. Why the fuck would they have been in the same gang?’ He took a deep breath. ‘Sorry. It’s just…’
‘I know. But isn’t it possible?’
‘Rainey was a copper. Don’t you think it would have come up before, during recruitment?’
‘Not necessarily, if it was years before. Not if he stayed quiet about it.’
Achebe chewed on his bottom lip. ‘His mum and dad would have known.’
‘Would they? Did your parents know everything about you when you were growing up? Mine didn’t.’
‘No, but… I don’t buy it, Caelan.’
‘I’m just looking for a link.’
‘And that’s the conclusion you jump to?’
Caelan held in a
scream. ‘No. I’m suggesting it as a possibility. When I first heard Anthony Bryce’s name, I thought I recognised it.’
‘And?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe I’ve read it somewhere.’
Achebe threw up his hands. ‘Well, get back to me when you’ve got a clue.’
Caelan said nothing, and he stepped towards her, touched her arm.
‘Apologies,’ he said softly. ‘It’s—’
‘The case. I get it.’ Caelan raised her eyes to the ceiling, trying to focus. Let Achebe ignore the possibility, but she knew she had been right to mention it. She didn’t think Rainey had ever been in a gang either, but maybe Bryce had. ‘We’re missing something,’ was all she said.
Achebe forced a laugh. ‘That we can agree on.’
Jen Somerville pushed the door open, walked towards them. From her expression, it was impossible to tell whether she had anything to report. Achebe raised his eyebrows.
‘Well?’
She grinned. ‘They were about to ring me. They’ve accessed Ben Rainey’s phone.’
‘And?’ Achebe demanded.
‘No calls or texts received. No contacts stored in the memory, but it was used to make some calls to a number.’
‘One number?’ Caelan wanted to be sure. Somerville nodded.
‘Just one – the same pay-as-you-go SIM Anthony Bryce called us from to set up the meeting where he gave the information about the new dealer in Edmonton.’
There was a pause, Caelan trying to figure out what this meant, Achebe no doubt doing the same.
‘Then Bryce lied when he said he didn’t know Rainey.’ Achebe looked furious. ‘Who spoke to him about Ben Rainey, Jen?’
Somerville blinked. ‘I’m not sure.’
‘Find out, please.’
‘What, so you can give them a bollocking?’ Somerville stood her ground. ‘Is that necessary?’
Caelan waited for Achebe to explode, but instead he gave a slow shake of his head. ‘No. No, the last thing we need is to piss our team off even more after three weeks, no leads, and no paid overtime.’
‘So, we have evidence that Bryce knew Rainey, or at least had spoken to him. How many calls were made, Jen?’ Caelan asked. Somerville looked her up and down before replying.
‘Four, the last about three hours before Ben Rainey died.’
Tell No Lies Page 18