Murder Ring (A DI Geraldine Steel Mystery)

by Leigh Russell

  ‘I wish something would happen,’ he said.

  ‘It will. Sooner or later, something’s going to kick off, and we’ll be called in to pick up the pieces for which we’ll get no thanks, just abuse. I’ll be glad to get out,’ Ned admitted. ‘Everything’s changed. I remember belting along, no need for sirens and flashing lights. Other drivers just moved over to let us pass. Respect. That’s what we used to have. Deference.’

  The radio crackled out a message. A fight had broken out in a side street nearby.

  ‘Calling all units in the vicinity of Marylebone Passage off Margaret Street and Wells Street.’

  ‘We’re one minute away. How many people are involved?’ Ned snapped as he swung the wheel.

  ‘Two youths, IC1 male, one or possibly both carrying knives. Back-up is on the way.’

  Ned turned to his young companion. ‘There’s two of them got into a fight, one or possibly both armed with knives. You wanted to see some action, didn’t you? We should be first on the scene.’

  ‘I’m up for it! Let’s go! Shall I put the siren on?’

  Ned nodded and Alistair turned on the siren, grinning as they nudged their way through the dense traffic. It was still slow going, but at least they were making their presence felt.

  ‘This could be bloody, you know,’ Ned warned his companion. ‘Someone’s likely to get hurt. Make sure you don’t do anything stupid.’ He broke off at a sudden thought. ‘You remembered your stab vest, didn’t you?’

  ‘Of course.’

  They pulled up in a side street, jumped out of the car, and ran towards a small crowd that had gathered to watch two young men. Alistair glanced around, apprehensive now they had arrived. He and his colleague were the first officers on the scene. There were about a dozen onlookers, mostly male, all in their twenties or thirties. If they turned on him and Ned, he and his colleague wouldn’t stand a chance. As they drew near to the fracas, he heard sirens approaching. That must have been the cue Ned was waiting for, because he broke into a trot.

  ‘Break it up now,’ Ned called out, as he sprinted forwards.

  Two men were facing one another, one fair haired, the other dark. As Ned pushed his way into the centre of the circle the blond fighter staggered and fell to the ground, bleeding from a gash on his arm. The dark-haired one stood, knees bent, knife in hand, glaring at Ned as though daring him to approach. For a second no one moved. Alistair was relieved and, at the same time, irrationally disappointed to see two more patrol cars arrive to block both exits from the street.

  ‘Put the knife down before someone gets hurt,’ Ned said calmly.

  The armed man slashed the air with his blade. ‘Back off, pig.’

  With a burst of anger, Alistair barged through the watching crowd, and dashed to Ned’s side. With two police officers standing firm against him, the knife-wielding thug didn’t stand a chance. It was over. Shaking with relief, Alistair kept his face immobile.

  Without warning, the dark-haired youth leaped across to his victim who was still lying on the ground, moaning. Seizing the injured man round the neck, the armed man held the point of his knife at his opponent’s throat.

  ‘Back off or he croaks.’

  ‘Don’t do anything rash, lad,’ Ned said quietly, taking a step forward. ‘This is just a scrap that’s got out of hand. You don’t want to be done for murder. With so many witnesses, there’s no way you’d be pleading manslaughter. There’s no getting away from it. You’re surrounded. Do yourself a favour and drop the knife, and let’s get that bleeding stopped or you might still be had up on a murder charge.’

  The man with the knife hesitated. All at once his shoulders dropped and the knife clattered to the ground. As soon as he let it fall, the blond man sat up and socked him on the jaw. They wrestled for a moment.

  ‘You take the dark guy, I’ll take the blond one,’ Ned snapped.

  Alistair and Ned pulled them apart and handcuffed them.

  The wounded man began to groan. ‘I need a doctor.’

  ‘All in good time,’ Ned assured him. ‘You’re not going to die.’

  ‘Get these fucking handcuffs off me now. You can see I’m bleeding. This is fucking police brutality. Get them off me!’

  ‘Don’t overdo the gratitude,’ Ned said. ‘We only saved your life.’

  ‘I would’ve had him if you hadn’t interfered,’ the blond man snarled. ‘This ain’t over, Jack.’

  ‘Like fuck it ain’t,’ the other man retorted.

  ‘Well, your gratitude makes it all worthwhile,’ Ned said. ‘I just saved your life, and saved you from going down for murder, and all you can do is complain.’

  ‘Too bloody right I’m gonna complain. You got no right interfering in my business,’ the dark-haired man spat. ‘I’m gonna get you.’

  ‘Come along now, Jack, is it? You’re coming with us. If you want to add threatening a police officer to the list of charges we’ve got against you, that’s up to you.’

  55

  AS USUAL, GERALDINE went into work early the next morning. She spent a couple of hours reading through Theo’s statements, failing to make any sense out of them. Ready for a break, she was relieved to be summoned to the incident room. Anything was better than kicking her heels at her desk, reading nonsense that made her head ache with frustration.

  ‘It sounds like something important’s come up,’ Neil said. ‘The DCI wouldn’t be calling everyone together just for a pep talk.’

  ‘Have you worked with Adam before?’

  ‘No.’

  Geraldine just grunted before leaving the room. She understood that Neil was trying to be encouraging, but until she heard what Adam had to say, she wasn’t going to get her hopes up. The case so far had been full of disappointment. Like her life. Doing her best to shake off her depressing thoughts, she made her way along the corridor to the major incident room. On the way, she heard Sam calling her name. Reluctantly, she slowed down and allowed the sergeant to catch up with her.

  ‘What’s going on?’

  Geraldine shook her head. ‘Search me. We’ll find out soon enough. Come on.’

  ‘I don’t mean about this meeting. I mean you. Are all right?’

  ‘Yes. Why wouldn’t I be?’

  Sam frowned. ‘I don’t know. It’s just that – well, you’ve just been looking so down lately, I just wondered if something was wrong. If it’s me, if I’ve done something to piss you off, I’d rather you just told me, only you seem to be avoiding me.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous. It’s just this bloody investigation doing my head in.’

  They reached the incident room and Geraldine hurried in ahead of Sam, keen to avoid her questions. If she was feeling distressed, that was no one else’s business. She would talk about her mother when she felt ready. They didn’t have long to wait before the detective chief inspector arrived. He strode in, looking more cheerful than Geraldine had seen him for a while.

  ‘Good morning everyone.’ There was a faint muttering in response. ‘We’ve had a stroke of luck,’ he went on loudly. ‘At last, things are going our way. Two men were apprehended last night in a knife fight, not far from Oxford Circus station. They were taken to the local station where it was discovered that one of them is our suspect, Jack Bates.’ He looked around with a triumphant grin. ‘Thank Christ for the stupidity of criminals. Here we are chasing around all over the place trying to find the bastard, and he turns up and as good as hands himself in!’

  A murmur rustled round the team. Someone cheered. The atmosphere in the room changed. Officers who had walked in looking weary and disgruntled appeared transformed.

  ‘He’ll be here shortly,’ Adam went on, ‘so let’s be ready for him. The duty brief needs to be called, so that we can get started as quickly as possible. Well done, everyone, for all the hard work that’s gone into this. I know we’ve been running around like blue-arsed flies, but it’s all been worth it. We’ve got him.’

  ‘He’s not the one who’s been running around,’
Sam muttered to Geraldine.

  ‘It’s more through luck than hard work that we’ve found him,’ Geraldine replied.

  ‘It’s as good as over,’ Adam went on. ‘The suspect’s safely in custody and with so much evidence stacked up against him, a conviction is a stone-cold certainty. Now, let’s get going and wrap this up.’

  ‘Typical,’ Sam complained, grinning broadly. ‘All our leg work gets us nowhere and then some patrol car just picks him up, just like that. I wonder who’ll get all the glory?’

  ‘This job isn’t about glory,’ Geraldine retorted sharply. ‘In any case, let’s not count our chickens.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘He was carrying a knife, wasn’t he?’

  ‘I know. That’s why they took him in, isn’t it?’

  ‘Doesn’t it strike you as odd that he was carrying a knife, not a gun, when a gun seems to be his weapon –’

  ‘That’s because we’ve got his gun!’ Sam’s round face creased in a broad grin. ‘Look, are you sure you’re OK? I mean, you don’t seem exactly pleased we’ve got him…’

  ‘Of course I’m pleased. I’m just a bit preoccupied…’

  On the point of admitting that she had found her mother, only to lose her again, Geraldine hesitated. It was a complicated situation to explain in the few minutes they had together, walking along the corridor. It wasn’t the right setting. They could be interrupted at any moment. But this was not the right time to take a break. She needed to prepare the interview.

  ‘Thinking about your questions? Sorry. I’ll leave you to get ready.’

  Sam turned away. Wanting to call her back and talk to her, instead Geraldine stood silently, watching her colleague walk away. There was something robust and frank about Sam that Geraldine found reassuring yet unaccountably intimidating at the same time. With a sigh she returned to her office, resolving to tell Sam all about her mother when the case was over. It was looking as though that wouldn’t be long now.

  ‘Well?’ Neil asked her, as she sat down at her desk.

  Although she had only just learned that their suspect had been apprehended, it seemed surprising that her colleague hadn’t yet heard about the latest development. Under normal circumstances she would have enjoyed passing on the news. But this was not a normal day. Her mother was dead. Her back to Neil, she told him they had caught the suspect.

  ‘Now, if you don’t mind, I need to get ready.’

  ‘Of course.’

  Without turning round she couldn’t tell if he was offended by her curt response, but she didn’t care. Struggling to cope with the loss of the only blood relative she had ever met, she had to focus on Jack Bates and the fall-out from the deaths of more people she had never known.

  56

  ‘HOW DID YOU get your hands on David Lester’s leather jacket?’

  The young man glared sullenly straight ahead, refusing to look at her. He had classical good looks, with a long face, high cheekbones and a thin, straight nose.

  ‘I dunno what you’re on about. I never had no leather jacket.’

  For the tape, Geraldine described the exhibit that was being brought to the table.

  ‘We found this in your wardrobe at your home in George Berkeley House. It has your DNA and prints all over it indicating that you wore it before you hung it in your wardrobe.’

  ‘So what? It’s mine. It’s my jacket, innit?’

  Geraldine paused, wondering how to deal with such stupid lies. If the suspect continued to contradict himself so freely, they would have no trouble getting him to implicate himself. The interview had barely started and he had already managed to undermine his own credibility. The duty lawyer stirred in his chair but said nothing. Geraldine wondered what he was up to, allowing his client to drop himself in it so completely. It was obvious Jack had taken David’s jacket. It was too far-fetched to claim the suspect owned a jacket exactly the same as the one the victim had been wearing the night he was killed, especially as the victim’s jacket had unaccountably disappeared when he was shot.

  ‘This jacket, which was found in your wardrobe, was identified by the victim’s wife as identical to the one her husband was wearing the night he was shot.’

  ‘Is this jacket unique in any way?’ the lawyer asked.

  ‘Other than yielding DNA from both the victim and your client, you mean?’

  The lawyer scowled at her. She returned her attention to Jack.

  ‘Are you sure this is your jacket?’

  ‘Is what I said, innit?’

  ‘Where did you buy it?’

  He shrugged. ‘I dunno.’

  ‘Come on, Jack, you must remember where you bought it. It’s a Ralph Lauren, must have cost you over a thousand quid. Surely you can’t forget a purchase like that. Where did you get it?’

  ‘I got it off a mate, all right? I never paid no grand for no fucking jacket.’

  ‘What’s your mate’s name?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘The mate you bought this jacket from.’

  ‘I never bought no leather jacket. I never seen it before.’

  ‘Jack, stop playing games. This jacket was in your wardrobe.’

  ‘Says you.’

  ‘You admitted a moment ago, on tape, that it’s yours. So let’s try again. When did you get it?’

  ‘I ain’t saying nothing about it.’

  ‘What if he did steal it?’ the lawyer chipped in, ‘that has no bearing on this case. My client hasn’t been arrested for theft.’

  ‘I never nicked nothing. Jesus, man, I thought you was supposed to be on my side.’

  Seeing Jack was rattled, Geraldine continued.

  ‘A leather jacket identified by the first victim’s widow as identical to the one her husband was wearing the night he was shot was found hanging up in your wardrobe. The dead man’s jacket has disappeared. The evidence is beginning to stack up, and it’s not looking good for you, Jack. Why don’t you do yourself a favour and tell us what happened that night in Wells Mews? You never meant to shoot anyone, did you? You were only out to mug him. Bloke in expensive gear, must be loaded, you chanced upon him when he was pissed and lost in a dark alleyway. It was too good an opportunity to miss. It’s a nice jacket, isn’t it? You only meant to take his jacket off him, but then it all went wrong and you shot him. Why? What happened? If you cooperate with us the court will be lenient. Your clever lawyer there will convince them it was all a mistake. Manslaughter. You never meant to shoot him, did you? You only wanted his jacket.’

  ‘Which appears to have no blood stains,’ the lawyer said, ‘despite its wearer being shot in the chest.’ He shook his head. ‘You’ll have to come up with something better than this, Inspector.’

  Jack grinned and clicked his fingers. ‘That’s my man.’

  Geraldine suggested David had handed over the jacket before he was shot.

  Jack’s lawyer robustly refuted her theory. ‘You’re making this up as you go along. You’ve no proof against my client. And luckily for him, your version of events doesn’t add up. If all he wanted was the victim’s jacket, why would he have shot him after he had got what he wanted? You know perfectly well someone else came along and robbed the victim.’

  Jack turned to the lawyer. ‘You mean the guy what shot him?’

  Now Geraldine was confused. ‘What guy?’ She leaned forward. ‘Tell us what guy you’re talking about.’

  Unexpectedly, Jack caved in. ‘All right, all right, I’ll tell you what happened. Only stop going on at me. You’re driving me nuts.’

  According to Jack’s garbled account, David had been to the bar where Jack worked. He hadn’t stayed long and had gone leaving his jacket behind.

  ‘This leather jacket?’

  ‘Yeah, that’s what we been talking about, innit?’

  As he was collecting glasses, Jack had seen the jacket, grabbed it and rushed after the customer, hoping to catch up with him. He didn’t think anyone else had noticed the jacket in the corner, and he didn�
��t stop to tell any of his colleagues, who were all busy behind the bar. Outside in the street, he had caught sight of the man who had left the jacket behind and had run to catch up with him.

  ‘I went after him out of the goodness of me heart,’ he added.Following as far as Wells Mews, Jack had just turned the corner when he heard a gunshot up ahead. He turned and fled, with the jacket still over his arm.

  ‘It was a nice jacket, so I kept it.’

  ‘When you entered Wells Mews you heard a shot?’

  He nodded.

  ‘What else? What did you see?’

  ‘Nothing. I didn’t look or nothing. I legged it.’

  ‘Why didn’t you call the police?’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘Police, ambulance, someone had just been shot.’

  ‘Nothing to do with me. I never even saw nothing.’

  ‘You could have saved someone’s life.’

  ‘Landed myself in a heap of shit more like.’

  ‘You mentioned he was shot by a man.’

  ‘I never saw nothing.’

  ‘Let’s talk about the gun that was used in a shooting in Wells Mews, and subsequently in another shooting in the bar where you work, the gun that your brother, Theo, had in his possession.’

  At the mention of Theo’s name, Jack’s demeanour altered. He sat up in his chair and his expression changed from sullen to openly hostile.

  ‘You leave my bro outa this,’ he said, after which he sat in obdurate silence.

  At the lawyer’s insistence, Geraldine drew the interview to a close for the day and went back to her office. She was writing up her report when the detective chief inspector summoned her.

  ‘Oh shit,’ she muttered.

  ‘Trouble?’ Neil asked.

  She just shrugged. Adam wasn’t going to be any happier than she was at the way Jack’s interview had gone.

  ‘Let’s just say we haven’t got a confession yet.’

  ‘Are you deliberately setting out to look for problems? Reg warned me about you.’ Before Geraldine had a chance to react to the reference to her previous DCI, Adam laughed. ‘Don’t look so aggrieved. There’s nothing worse than people who don’t think for themselves, especially in this job. A colleague who never challenges anything might as well not be here at all. But you don’t need to feel duty bound to challenge everything. The fact is, we have Jack Bates behind bars, and there’s no question that he’s guilty. All the evidence points in his direction – compelling physical evidence. OK, there’s nothing specific that places him, gun in hand, at Luke’s shooting, but we know he was in the bar, working upstairs, and it’s his gun, and we know he used it to kill David. You can’t argue with the facts, Geraldine.’