Dirty Secrets

by JANICE FROST

  DI Blunt had some information that he thought Neal might find interesting. In addition, he was hoping that Neal could assist with his investigation into the double shooting.

  “Bear with me a moment,” Neal said. He got up, tapped on the glass door of his office and beckoned to Ava and Tom. They hurried in.

  Neal filled them in on his conversation with Blunt. “I’m putting you on speaker,” he said.

  “Liam Sharp died at six thirty this morning,” Blunt said. “He’d been shot in the head at point-blank range. No one knows how he managed to survive that long.”

  “What have you got for us?” Neal asked, still in the dark about what the death of an East End drug dealer had to do with them.

  “Liam was very talkative before the medics showed up. He was rambling mostly, about his brother, his mates, but the names Hector Cornish and Fin O’Shea also came up.”

  “In what regard?” Neal asked.

  “Like I said, he was rambling, but he kept coming back to these characters, Hector and Fin. How they’d betrayed him. Stolen from him.”

  “Bethnal Green was Fin O’Shea’s old haunt, wasn’t it, Chief?” Tom said. “Could he have known this Liam character and his brother, Darren?”

  “Did you recognise the name Fin O’Shea? He grew up on your patch, and we know he was once involved with drugs,” Neal said to Blunt.

  There was a pause. “No, but my predecessor covered my patch for twenty-odd years. Chances are he’d have come across him. I’ll get back to you on that. In the meantime, what can you tell me about this Hector Cornish?”

  “He’s Stromford born and bred. Cambridge graduate. Wealthy parents. His father’s business partner, Russ Marsh, was shot in the head a couple of weeks ago.” It was beginning to sound like a lot of people were being shot in the head. “And a girl he was involved with, Dana Schell, was found dead a day after Marsh’s killing. A kilo of coke was found in her room. She lived at Hector’s parents’ home, where she worked as a help. Both murders are currently under investigation.”

  “Well, this Hector Cornish is our only lead,” Blunt said. “I think I need to pay you all a visit. I can be with you at say . . .” He paused, “two thirty. Think you can have this Hector Cornish available for questioning by then?”

  “We’ll bring him in.”

  “What about O’Shea?”

  “He’s in Cambridge.”

  “I’ll make another call,” Blunt said, and hung up.

  “It seems that Fin and Hector are better acquainted than we’d previously thought,” Neal observed.

  “Drugs,” Tom said. He just failed to say ‘told you so.’

  “So, what’s going on?” Ava said. “Hector, Fin, East End dealer? What have they got themselves mixed up in?”

  “Paul Cornish reckoned Hector had got in with a bad crowd, but I don’t think he was referring to this Liam Sharp and his gang,” Neal said.

  “He was talking about the gambling crowd, wasn’t he?” Tom said. “Hector ran up a lot of debt and his father cut off his allowance as a deterrent. What if it didn’t work, and Hector carried on gambling? He would have needed a way of funding his activity. I reckon he got into the drugs game. Like we said before, those drugs in Dana’s room were his. He was dealing to finance his gambling.”

  Neal thought this was probably about right.

  “Fin introduced him to Liam,” Ava said, and Tom nodded. “Hector somehow found out about Fin’s past history — probably heard his parents talking about the PI’s findings — and asked Fin for help setting himself up as a dealer. Fin did more than provide information, he provided a contact. His old mate, Liam Sharp.”

  Neal nodded. They might not have it exactly right, but surely they were on the right track?

  “But Fin was out of the game,” Ava said. “Why would he get back in? We speculated, didn’t we, that Hector might have had something on Ruth and Fin. He blackmailed them to take part in what seemed like an obvious deception about Dana being a dealer.”

  “I think I might be able to shed some light on that.” They turned and saw PJ standing in the doorway, looking tired and drawn. “I’ve just come from the hospital. I saw Ruth Marsh. Cam’s a lot better.” PJ glanced somewhat accusingly at Tom as she said this.

  “That’s very good news,” Neal said.

  “There was a bit of a to-do,” PJ said. She related what Ruth had said to her — the truth about the events of the night of the fire that had killed Will. Finally, she got to the bit about Lizzie Hamilton’s ill-timed arrival.

  “Holy shit!” Ava said.

  “Quite. Ruth and Lizzie are — or were — very close. I hate to think how this will affect their relationship. Not to mention Val Marsh. Russ made sure the truth never came out. He did it to protect his daughter. He made Ruth promise not to tell anyone what really happened.”

  “Lizzie’s been blaming Russ for Will and her first husband’s deaths, when really it was all Ruth’s doing,” Ava said. “I suppose Russ’s urge to protect Ruth exonerates him a little.”

  “No. It doesn’t,” Neal said. As the only father in the room, he felt the need for clarity on this matter. “He was wrong on several counts, but most of all he was wrong to let Ruth grow up with no outlet for her guilt. He denied her the opportunity to atone or make reparations. Who knows what psychological damage that’s inflicted on her?”

  “Serves her right, if you ask me,” Tom said. “Lizzie Hamilton’s the one who’s suffered most.”

  “Oh, Tom! You’re so . . . so unfeeling.” PJ had evidently still not forgiven Tom for suggesting that Ruth had faked Cam’s illness.

  “Well, she doesn’t seem particularly maladjusted, does she?” grumbled Tom.

  “I think she is. Didn’t Fin say he was attracted to what he called ‘a sadness’ in Ruth?” PJ asked Ava, who gave a nod. “I think she’s got terrible psychological scars.”

  Tom looked sceptical, but PJ continued. “The fire was a tragic accident, but I think Ruth truly believes she committed murder that night. After Lizzie left, I tried to calm her down, but she just kept saying it over and over. She was hysterical. She’s an intelligent person, and she must know that in the eyes of the law she didn’t murder her cousin, but her conscience says otherwise. She can’t forgive herself. And now Lizzie Hamilton probably won’t either.” PJ looked close to tears.

  “Well, obviously, this news could be significant,” Neal said. “If, as you say, Hector Cornish was with Ruth Marsh earlier that fateful evening, did he put two and two together, and work out what part Ruth played in the tragedy? He was the only other person who knew that Ruth went to her aunt and uncle’s house that night. This could be the information he used to blackmail Ruth and Fin into lying for him about Dana selling drugs.”

  “But surely Fin must have known Ruth couldn’t be charged with anything? Why would he let himself be drawn back into the drugs game when Hector had no actual evidence against Ruth?” Tom said.

  “He loves her,” PJ said. “He understands how she thinks. And Ruth’s mental state is fragile. Fin would have been worried about pushing her over the edge. And she was pregnant.”

  “I agree,” Neal said. “I think Ruth Marsh will need a lot of counselling if she’s ever going to come to terms with her actions that night.”

  “Could have saved herself a lot of grief and been up front about it from the start,” Tom said. “If she’s carrying all this guilt, you’d have thought she’d feel the urge to confess, purge herself and face the music.”

  “I think she was scared to. Her father forbade her ever to speak about it. Then her aunt started seeing her as a substitute for Will, and she was just too terrified of the effect it would have on Lizzie if the truth came out,” PJ said.

  “Well, it’s out now alright,” Tom said. There was no disagreeing with that. “So, are we saying this makes it more likely that Hector’s our man, at least for Dana’s murder?”

  Neal was sceptical. “It doesn’t make sense for him to kill Dana over t
he drugs, and then leave them in her room for the police to find.”

  “I agree,” Ava said. “If he’d killed Dana he would have recovered the drugs from her room.”

  “Tom, arrange for Hector Cornish to be brought in for questioning. I want to see his reaction when Blunt mentions that an East London drug dealer died with his name on his lips,” Neal said.

  “On it, sir.” Tom gave him a half-salute and left the room.

  “Good work on finding out about what happened to Will, PJ,” Neal said. “Do you think you could get Ruth to admit that Hector blackmailed her and Fin over Dana? It would be useful if you can get her to confirm that she and Fin lied to us about that. Preferably before Blunt gets here and we interview Hector.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll go straight back to the hospital now.” Looking pleased at the praise from Neal, PJ hurried off.

  * * *

  DI Blunt had arrived ten minutes early, and was sitting in the kitchen drinking coffee and biting down on a giant McDonald’s burger. He wiped grease from his chin. “Sorry. Skipped breakfast this morning and didn’t fancy anything on the trolley they brought around on the train.”

  Neal nodded, thinking it wouldn’t do Blunt any harm to skip a few meals. He was a big bear of a man, with a balding head and a soft paunch overhanging the belt of his trousers. He was impatient to get started on interviewing Hector Cornish. Hector had been brought in a couple of hours ago, and had already made rumblings about legal representation. By all accounts, he was in a pretty bad way. Tom had been present when he was brought in, and he reckoned Hector had a broken nose, and a cut that could do with some stitches. He’d been seen by a medic who’d confirmed that he was fit for questioning.

  A mental image persisted from Neal’s last meeting with Hector of an arrogant, entitled young man dressed in a onesie, posing as a bit of a fop, and feeling sorry for himself because his peers were taking advantage of his wealth. He’d been eager to represent Dana Schell as being a drug user. He’d practically accused her of prostitution, and of stealing from his parents. Dana had been a user, that much was clear, but nothing they had so far uncovered suggested that she had been dealing.

  Tom appeared at the kitchen door, bearer of unwelcome news. “Hector’s got himself lawyered up. He asked to make a call, phoned his dad and we’ve been advised not to proceed until their bloke arrives.”

  “As if we’d dare,” Neal said. Blunt rolled his eyes.

  Half an hour later, Neal and Blunt introduced themselves to Paul Cornish’s solicitor, Julian Brattleby-Brown, outside interview room two. Brattleby-Brown’s upper-class accent and condescending tone immediately grated. “Exactly what is my client being questioned in connection with, Inspector?” he asked.

  “DI Blunt is investigating a murder in which Hector Cornish’s name came up. We’d like to know what Hector’s relationship with the victim was, and why he thinks this victim mentioned him in his dying moments.”

  Brattleby-Brown stroked his chin ruminatively, while Neal gave him the details of the investigation into Russ Marsh and Dana Schell’s deaths, as well as the police’s previous interview with Hector at his father’s flat, in which he’d denied any involvement with drugs. Brattleby-Brown made a series of harrumphing noises as he listened.

  Despite having heard an account of Hector’s beating from Tom, according to whom, ‘his face looks like a plate of raw meat,’ Neal was somewhat shocked at the sight of Hector’s bruised and bloodied features. His nose looked out of alignment, his lips were cracked and swollen. One eye was so puffed up it was practically closed. No one had mentioned the beating to Brattleby-Brown, and he immediately jumped to the wrong conclusion.

  “Who did this to you?” He glared at Neal and Blunt.

  “It wasn’t the police, Jules,” Hector said.

  Jules. So Brattleby-Brown was a family friend.

  “Care to tell us, who, then, Hector?” Neal asked. Hector didn’t answer. He stared sullenly at the desk, refusing to meet Neal’s eye. Neal guessed he was probably in pain.

  He cautioned Hector and advised him that the interview would be recorded. He introduced himself and DI Blunt. Did he imagine it, or did Hector’s good eye really flicker in alarm when he mentioned that Blunt was from the Met and was based at Bethnal Green?

  “Mr Cornish, DI Blunt attended the scene of a shooting incident in Bethnal Green in the early hours of this morning. There were allegedly two victims, one Liam Sharp, who’d been shot in the head, fatally, as it turned out, and his brother, Darren, who was not present at the scene when the police arrived. It was Darren Sharp who put in the 999 call, in which he alleged that he and his brother had been shot. Liam lived long enough to talk to the police. He wasn’t exactly coherent but he was able to give the police some details . . .” Neal paused.

  Hector rubbed his nose with the back of his hand and winced. He said nothing.

  “The thing is, Hector, Liam Sharp named you and Fin O’Shea . . .” Again, Neal deliberately left his sentence unfinished.

  “What? That’s fucking crazy. I haven’t even seen Liam since—”

  Brattleby-Brown’s attempt to repair the damage was almost comical. He jerked about like a puppet, gesticulating and clearing his throat loudly. No doubt he’d cautioned Hector to keep his mouth shut unless it was to say, ‘No comment.’ With his first utterance, Hector had managed to screw things up.

  “So you admit to having known and interacted with Liam Sharp, Hector?” Neal pressed.

  “No. I didn’t say that, I . . . Shit, I’m in so much pain here I can’t think straight. That bloody medic wouldn’t give me anything stronger than paracetamol.”

  “I’d just like to point out that we will also be interviewing Fin O’Shea. Is he likely to corroborate what you say? I’m asking you again, did you know and interact with Liam Sharp?”

  Hector turned stiffly to Brattleby-Brown, who gave him a nod.

  “I . . . yeah . . . I remember now. I went to London with Fin once. We were going to a concert. Fin wanted some coke. I don’t do that stuff, but he insisted on going to see this dealer he used to know years ago. I waited outside when he went in to see . . . to see . . . this . . . Liam . . . was it?”

  Nice try, Neal thought, irritably. “So you didn’t meet Liam Sharp personally?”

  “That’s right, no, I never set eyes on him or his brother.” Hector shifted painfully in his seat, “Wha-what did you say happened to his brother?”

  Interesting that Hector was keen to learn the fate of someone he’d never set eyes on.

  Blunt spoke up. “We don’t know. We think he was shot too. Injured. There was a trail of blood leading out of the house. A neighbour said Liam’s car was gone. I tell you what, though. If that lad’s still alive, he’ll be going after whoever shot his brother. Or anyone he thinks knows something about it.”

  Hector gave a shrug. It was hard to tell if his face had paled under those livid bruises, and his one good eye gave little away. Even so, Neal sensed that he was unnerved. Good.

  Neal said, “Mr Cornish has been questioned already concerning the death of Dana Schell. I believe you are aware of this?” The lawyer gave a brief nod. Neal proceeded with caution. “There are certain elements of that investigation that may be . . .” He thought suddenly of PJ’s word ‘intertangled,’ and wished he could use it. “Connected in some way to DI Blunt’s murder investigation.”

  “Well, my client isn’t your connection, even if his name did crop up in what to my mind is clearly some kind of drugs-related gangland killing. I suggest you concentrate your resources on locating and questioning this Fin character and leave Mr Cornish, who has clearly suffered a traumatic experience, out of it.”

  “Tell us what you know about the night Ruth Marsh’s cousin, Will, died in a fire at his home, Hector.” Neal decided that a sudden change of direction might unsettle Hector further.

  “What?” Hector’s surprise seemed genuine. Brattleby-Brown intervened immediately.

  “What’s this a
bout now, Inspector? I haven’t been informed of any further line of questioning. Is this relevant?”

  Pompous git. Neal ignored him. To Hector, he said, “We know that Ruth Marsh was with you the night Will died, and that you accompanied her to Will’s house.”

  Hector looked confused. “Surely you’re not suggesting I had anything to do with that fire?”

  “No. Ruth has given us a full account of what happened that night. She was high — on drugs and alcohol that she says you gave to her.”

  “Where are you going with this, Inspector Neal?” Brattleby-Brown intervened again.

  Neal ignored him again. Pity PJ hadn’t been in touch yet. Had she managed to get Ruth to admit that Hector had blackmailed her over the drugs in Dana’s room? Neal pressed on anyway, putting his faith in PJ.

  “You blackmailed Ruth, and her partner, Fin O’Shea, to lie to us about Dana Schell, didn’t you? Those drugs we found in Dana’s room were yours. Stolen from Liam Sharp. Dana was storing them for you and you panicked when we found them, so you hatched that stupid story about Dana being a drug dealer, presumably to deflect our attention from you. A complete waste of police time. But you’re the one who’s been dealing, Hector. To finance your gambling addiction.”

  “Prove it,” Hector said. He grimaced. A thin line of blood trickled from his split lip and he wiped it away.

  “We will, son.” Neal looked at his watch. “One of my officers is interviewing Ruth Marsh again this afternoon. Now that she has confessed to starting the fire accidentally, she has no reason to be afraid that you’ll reveal her secret.”

  Brattleby-Brown coughed and then requested a recess.

  Neal and Blunt waited outside while the man briefed his client. Blunt lit up a cigarette and inhaled deeply. “Needed that.”

  “This Liam Sharp. How big is his operation?” Neal asked.

  “Small potatoes, really, compared to the organised gangs we see these days. Mainly him and his brother, plus a few others. They’ve been on our radar for a while, but Liam was in the game long enough to know how to avoid getting caught. This Fin O’Shea took the rap for Liam’s kid brother once. Claimed a stash found in Darren’s rucksack belonged to him. You ask me, that was the making of him, gave him a way out of the life. Never looked back after he did his community sentence, so I’ve been told. But even after this amount of time, Liam would have felt obliged to grant him a favour by doing business with Cornish. But if Hector pissed him off, well . . .”