The Rules of Murder

by The Rules of Murder (epub)

  ‘Which is essentially what Curtis was convicted of in the end, and it’s a charge which carries a long custodial sentence, as opposed to him being placed in a mental health facility.’

  ‘It was a position we negotiated with the CPS outside the courtroom. If we’d pushed through with the trial to conclusion would we, with Dr Collins’s largely uncontested expert testimony, have persuaded the jury of diminished responsibility? It’s possible. But Curtis could also have been convicted of murder and locked up for the best part of the rest of his life. We took what was offered, which we knew would see Curtis spend a few years behind bars.’

  Dani shook her head at the matter-of-fact manner in which Waite was talking about the legal process, like it was all a game of chess, rather than a pursuit of justice.

  ‘The only difference, as you pointed out, is if we’d succeeded with the diminished responsibility argument, Curtis would have likely spent his time in a mental health facility rather than in prison.’

  ‘Which, wouldn’t you say, given where we are now, was exactly what he needed?’ Dani said.

  Waite shrugged. ‘That’s really not for me to answer. I’m a defence lawyer, not a medical doctor, and he had plenty of oversight at Long Lartin.’

  Yeah. From Dr Collins. What was the truth about her role in subsequent events?

  ‘It’s my job to give clients the best representation I can,’ Waite said. ‘And it’s their right to have representation. My conscience is clear, in relation to this case, and every other I’ve been involved in.’

  Though the way he said it made it sound as though it wasn’t the case at all. Or was that just that he was now shit-scared that he might be on Curtis’s kill list?

  ‘And I’ll state again,’ Waite added, ‘that Curtis received constant psychiatric assistance at Long Lartin, which was key to his parole application. It’s not like he was locked up and the key chucked away.’

  ‘Yeah but what good did it do?’ Dani asked, kind of rhetorically.

  ‘Who’s to say we wouldn’t have had this exact same outcome even if he had been in a mental hospital the last few years?’ Waite said. ‘The point is, Detective, the man out there killing now is not the same man I represented.’

  Which was the most worrying part still to Dani. What the hell had happened? Where had this new voice in Curtis’s head, and by extension the new Curtis, come from?

  ‘Tell me about the other car,’ Dani said.

  The sudden change of course had the desired effect. Waite looked jittery, though was trying his best to contain it. Not a reaction of someone who had no clue what Dani had said, but of someone who felt they’d been rumbled.

  ‘What car?’ he said.

  Dani took pause while she nonchalantly sipped her coffee, letting Waite stew, his agitation growing by the second.

  ‘The night Curtis crashed,’ Dani said, ‘killing his girlfriend and his son, there was another car at the scene. Another car that Curtis claimed pushed him off the road.’

  ‘I don’t know where you’ve got that—’

  ‘From Curtis himself actually.’

  Waite’s eyes narrowed as he stared at Dani.

  ‘What I don’t get is what happened to that evidence,’ Dani said. ‘Whether or not that car caused the crash, anybody in another vehicle in the vicinity that night was a potential witness. But your team called no one in that regard at trial, and there’s certainly nothing in the police files about it.’

  Still Waite didn’t say a word. Dani felt he was about to shut the conversation down once and for all. Why was he so desperate to hide this?

  ‘And I do recognise that you weren’t assigned his case until a couple of days after his arrest,’ Dani said, ‘so likely you didn’t get the process started of making that evidence go away. So who did?’

  Waite shook his head. ‘You’ve lost me.’

  ‘I don’t think I have. Why was that evidence buried? Did they pay you off? Is that it?’

  Dani looked around the room now, in mock admiration.

  ‘Probably not all to my taste,’ she said, ‘but this is a pretty damn nice house for a Legal Aid lawyer.’

  ‘You f…’

  Waite shook his head angrily, his body was tense. He looked like he wanted to explode.

  ‘Is that all you’ve got to say for yourself?’ Dani said.

  ‘Get out of my house.’

  ‘Let me put it for you this way. Screw legal privilege to your murderous client. Unless you convince me otherwise, I’m arresting you right now. Obstruction of justice for starters. But how about assisting an offender too? What else? I wonder even whether conspiracy to murder could fit, under the circumstances.’

  ‘This is absolute nonsense. How dare you—’

  ‘Curtis killed them, didn’t he? After that car crash he throttled his girlfriend and her son to death.’

  ‘Whatever you think you know, you’re wrong. Everything I did was above board.’

  ‘Then tell me what you did.’

  Waite was silent again.

  ‘On the one hand, making that evidence go away helped Curtis, right?’ Dani said. ‘He was convicted of manslaughter, not murder. You probably thought you’d done a great job for him, given you knew he killed them. But the biggest question I have was why did that witness not come forward themselves? What were they trying to hide? Though I can take a good guess as to how it was made to appear they were never there at all.’

  ‘You’ve lost me now.’

  ‘I don’t think I have. Money. Money and political clout. Something which a family like the Redfearnes has in spades.’ Dani paused as she waited, hoping, for a response. None came, though Waite looked anything but confident now. ‘Henry Redfearne was the witness, wasn’t he?’

  Now Waite did look genuinely confused, and Dani stumbled slightly. What had she got wrong? She felt as though she’d had Waite the whole way there, right up until that last moment. She’d long wondered whether Oscar Redfearne was killed as a means of punishing his father, and that theory had been given great weight just a few minutes earlier when Constable had confirmed it was a Mercedes belonging to Henry Redfearne that had been at the crash scene that night.

  ‘Henry Redfearne was the witness,’ Dani said, trying to sound as convincing as she could. ‘He caused that crash, but he also saw Curtis murder his girlfriend and her son right after. As far as he was concerned, Curtis deserved what he got, and Redfearne used his lawyers and his money to have his involvement buried. Because he couldn’t bear the thought of having his name and reputation dragged through a court case, regardless of whether or not it was his fault.’

  ‘I’ve never met Henry Redfearne in my life,’ Waite said. ‘I’ve had no dealings with that man whatsoever.’

  He looked a little smug now, which really was quite something under the circumstances.

  But then Dani got it. Waite wasn’t lying. What had Pamela said about the true head of the family? Sometimes the most obvious explanation was the right one.

  ‘Oscar Redfearne was the driver,’ Dani said. ‘That’s why he was the target. Not punishment of his family, but because Oscar had caused that crash. ‘But… he would have been, what? Fourteen? Fifteen?’

  Waite chose the silent treatment again, though the confidence was draining from his face once more.

  ‘And it was Caroline Redfearne, not her husband, who pulled the strings to get any reference of her son being there that night wiped away,’ Dani said, thinking out loud.

  Waite said nothing, though the answer was clear enough by the sunken look on his face.

  Dani got to her feet.

  ‘Oliver Waite, I’m arresting you on suspicion of obstruction of justice…’

  * * *

  Dani was back in her car five minutes later. She’d left the disgraced lawyer in the hands of the rather confused officer from the patrol car outside Waite’s house. At least the policeman had something more interesting to do now than to sit in his car all day long. Dani would follow up with him
, and with Waite, later. For now, she had a much bigger priority.

  ‘Easton, are you still at Drifford House?’ Dani asked when he finally answered his phone at the fourth time of her calling.

  ‘Yeah, sorry about that. I was in with Henry. He’s getting pretty arsey with me here. I think I’ve just about outstayed my welcome. What do you want me to do?’

  Easton’s intent had been to keep Henry busy long enough until Dani made the decision whether or not to arrest him, but more importantly because if Henry was the man involved in that crash, it would mean he remained a target for Curtis, and so far the Redfearnes hadn’t been provided any police protection. But it wasn’t Henry who needed to answer questions about that night, nor who needed protection.

  ‘It’s not Henry,’ Dani said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘It wasn’t Henry who buried his involvement in that crash.’

  ‘So I don’t need to be here then? I was actually quite looking forward to reading him his rights.’

  ‘No, you are still needed there. It was Caroline Redfearne. At least I’m pretty sure it was. But it was Oscar driving that car.’

  ‘Whoah, Dani, slow down. What are you talking about?’

  ‘Oscar Redfearne was driving the car that sent Curtis off the road. He was a teenager, not even old enough to drive. I can only guess after the crash that he saw Curtis step from the wreck and kill his girlfriend and daughter. And then he panicked. He fled from there.’

  ‘And Daddy and their lawyers helped clear up the mess for their son?’

  ‘No. Not Daddy.’

  ‘Shit. Caroline?’

  ‘I think so. Make sure she doesn’t leave. I’m on my way.’

  ‘But… she’s not here.’

  ‘What? But—’

  ‘She hasn’t been here the whole time.’

  ‘Then where the hell is she?’

  ‘I haven’t a clue.’

  ‘Then you’d better go and find out.’

  Chapter Forty-Two

  I’ve been waiting a long time for this one. The main event, you could say. Nine days since I made my first move. I’d had in my mind back on that first night that I might have been able to kill two birds with one stone at Drifford House. Then Sophie had happened…

  An unexpected deviation. A welcome one at first, yet one which has since turned rotten. Nothing I can do to change that now. But I’m back on track, in more ways than one, and I think this time I really will get the chance for a two for one.

  I’ve followed the Bentley Continental all the way from her home. I’ve been keeping close over the last few days, and I know she’s barely been outside. She’s locked in grieving, or something like that. She’s making a rare trip out today, though she isn’t alone. The man driving the car is some sort of private security guard. I’ve no idea if he’s a regular detail or if he’s someone the family have employed simply in response to me, though I know she doesn’t leave the house without him now. Does she know she’s a target? Does she realise why?

  She really should by now, but I’ll be kind enough to explain it to her sooner rather than later.

  I follow the Bentley all the way to central Birmingham. The traffic coming into the city in the early afternoon is light and I stay a few cars back to remain out of sight, having to use my intuition whenever I get stuck at a junction or at traffic lights. As we approach the city, I’m still within touching distance, and it’s not long before we’re heading off the A38 carriageway and onto the grid-like streets around the central business district.

  The Bentley pulls to a stop outside an innocuous entrance to an underground car park. It’s just a square hole cut into the wall of a Victorian office building, a metal roller door covering the entrance.

  I drive on past and park the van in an on-street parking bay. There’s a pay meter two cars away, and I have plenty of change in my pocket, but what I don’t have is time. If my van gets a ticket then so be it. My main aim is simply to reach my quarry.

  I grab my bag and get out and quickly stride for the car park entrance, where the Bentley has already disappeared inside, and the door is already rolling shut. It’s three feet from the floor when I reach it, and I duck under as effortlessly as I can.

  The door closes with a light thud. Beyond me there’s a concrete ramp leading down. It sounds and smells strange in here. Enclosed. No natural light; it’s muggy and dank. It reminds me of my time in confinement. Not a nice thing to be reminded of. Particularly not at such an important moment. I have to fight to keep my focus and the rats at bay as I begin to walk down.

  You’re so close now. Make it count.

  Her kind words of encouragement help me feel relaxed, though I know when the moment comes I’ll be anything but. She continues to offer advice as I walk. I wish it was always like this with her, it makes me feel almost… human.

  I walk softly and as I reach the parking level I see the small space underneath the building has room enough for barely a dozen cars, and there’s no one else about apart from the newcomers.

  She’s just getting out, the door held open for her by the black-suited man. He’s taller than me. He’s quite bulky too, though he’s also a bit dim, or at least not very well trained for his newly appointed role. I know this because I’m only five yards from them when he finally seems to sense my presence, approaching him from behind.

  I already have the wrench in my hand. It will work better than the blades for this particular part.

  The guard first glances over his shoulder. Then he double-takes. Then he finally spins around when he realises this isn’t a drill.

  ‘Larry!’ she screams as she too figures it out.

  I’m already rushing forwards. The wrench is swinging ominously in an arc for the guard’s head. He sees it coming. Probably thinks he’s out-thought me. He lifts his forearm up and the thick metal smashes into it. The crack and his shout of pain suggests maybe I’ve shattered bone. I’m already spinning and moving down, aiming to take his legs, but he sees that coming too and manages to shift his weight and plant himself. It might not have been a problem if I was one hundred per cent, but I’m wounded still, from that bitch Dani Stephens and her bastard boyfriend. I don’t get anywhere near enough power in the swipe. The guard wobbles but he’s not going down, and as I right myself, his fist catches me in the side of the head.

  It’s me that’s going down.

  ‘Jesus, my phone! Where is it?’

  It’s her. Fumbling in her bag. I can’t let her make that call. But Larry the goddamn lump is on top of me. He’s punching me in the face. Big meaty fists with sausage fingers. Each strike is like being pounded with a mallet.

  There’s blood everywhere.

  My blood.

  It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

  You can’t fail now!

  I can’t fail now. But I’m losing consciousness. I don’t know how to get out of this position. I’ve no weapon in reach. My arms are pinned, and his hefty weight is crushing my chest.

  Then when I’m on the brink, he slows, then seems to take a moment’s pause. He’s panting, out of breath. All muscle, no stamina.

  No, he’s checking she’s OK. But he’s given me the glimmer of hope I needed.

  I buck and he jolts, and I wrench an arm free. His fist flies forwards again and smacks me in the eye, but as he pulls back, I grab his wrist and pull up my head and sink my teeth into flesh. He yelps in pain. I grind down, twist and yank back and one of his thick digits snaps off in my mouth like the bone of a chicken wing.

  I spit it out. He’s roaring in pain and anger, but his impetus is gone. I grab his head and pull him down and the next moment my teeth are clasped around his neck.

  Rinse and repeat.

  I’m soon left with a lump of flesh and gristle and blood in my mouth. He’s left with a golf-ball sized hole in his neck that’s spewing thick blood all over the floor, and me.

  I haul him off me and pull myself onto my feet as I grab the wrench.

 
‘Put the phone down,’ I demand as blood and spittle flies from my mouth.

  She doesn’t drop it, but she does pause as she looks over to me, petrified. I see a line of liquid running down her bare leg from underneath her floral summer dress.

  ‘Put it down, now,’ I say.

  Her hands are trembling. She couldn’t punch the numbers in even if she wanted to.

  And she does nothing but scream in hellish terror as I launch forwards with the wrench.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  As emotional as she was, there were no tears from Dani this time. She was beyond that now. She was devastated, distraught, and mind-numbingly miserable. She was also ashamed. Once again she’d failed.

  ‘Come on, Dani, do you want to get out of here?’ Easton said as he came back into the reception area from Amanda Johansson’s office, where the mutilated bodies of both Caroline Redfearne and the lawyer were being busily poked and prodded by the FSIs. Downstairs in the car park were the similarly mangled remains of Larry Denning, Caroline’s personal bodyguard. The thin blood trail from the car, to the lifts, and through to the office suggested Caroline, too, had been attacked there, but then dragged up to the office before she was killed in typically gory fashion. Dani winced at the thoughts of what the three had gone through.

  ‘No,’ Dani said. ‘We can still help here.’

  ‘We can, but we don’t need to. Forensics have got everything under control.’

  ‘No,’ Dani said, getting to her feet. ‘I’m not leaving here until they’re done. Until there’s nothing more we can do. I’m not running away from this just because it’s getting harder and harder to bear seeing Curtis’s latest handiwork.’

  ‘Of course. I wasn’t suggesting otherwise. But don’t you want a break at least? Five minutes of fresh air?’

  ‘Easton, use your bloody ears. I said no. If you need a breather, go ahead. But I’ve got work to do here.’

  She stomped past him, barging into his shoulder. Not that she was really angry with him, but at least if she channelled anger rather than the other conflicting and more defeatist emotions, she knew she’d have far more power and focus to see this through.