‘Why did you do it, captain? Why bring her in? I had interrogated her. Tall guy, short guy: she didn’t have a fucking clue who she met in that hotel room,’ Cooper said angrily.
‘You never did have the patience for interviews, Colin. Lindy proved to be most helpful. She could even be our chief witness,’ Sorrell said, trying to wrap up the call.
‘Not anymore. I told her not to talk. Not to moonlight. It’s not my fault. It’s not my fault. You forced me to do it,’ Cooper said chillingly.
Sorrell immediately picked up on the worrying change of tone. ‘What do you mean, Colin?’
Cooper didn’t reply, but Sorrell heard him sniff, as if he was crying.
‘What have you done, Colin? Colin, speak to me, what have you done? Colin? Colin? COLIN!’ Sorrell boomed down the phone. But all he heard was the sound of the ex-detective sobbing down the line.
It was the cry of a guilty man.
80 #DealMaker
Lacey Lanning @RaceyLaceyDJ
Bryce, I have tried to move on but I can’t. Maybe sex with my ex will help??
Bryce Horrigan @BryceTripleB
You have my full attention. Go on.
Lacey Lanning @RaceyLaceyDJ
I don’t want it to end the way it has. There was more to us than that.
Bryce Horrigan @BryceTripleB
Yes, it was unfortunate. I won’t be trying Meth again. I was off my tits.
Lacey Lanning @RaceyLaceyDJ
Yes. And my tits nearly came off!!! What is it about you and biting everyone’s breasts?
Bryce Horrigan @BryceTripleB
I am truly sorry. But yes. We should meet up again. Maybe I should invite all my exs?
Lacey Lanning @RaceyLaceyDJ
It’d have to be a large restaurant. More like a banqueting hall.
Bryce Horrigan @BryceTripleB
I’m thinking more of a very large bedroom!
Lacey Lanning @RaceyLaceyDJ
I bet Pasty and Chrissie wouldn’t say no?
Bryce Horrigan @BryceTripleB
You think? Thought they hated me.
Lacey Lanning @RaceyLaceyDJ
We’ve all hated you at some point. I reckon one last fling won’t do us any harm…
Bryce Horrigan @BryceTripleB
All of you together?
Lacey Lanning @RaceyLaceyDJ
I’m sure we could be persuaded – if there’s a free trip to New York in it?
Bryce Horrigan @BryceTripleB
Nah, not NY. I’m too well known here. Somewhere nearby. An hour flight. Tops.
Lacey Lanning @RaceyLaceyDJ
DC? Baltimore?
Bryce Horrigan @BryceTripleB
Wire country? Sounds wild.
Lacey Lanning @RaceyLaceyDJ
Wild and dangerous – like me. I could fantasise you’re Jimmy McNulty.
Bryce Horrigan @BryceTripleB
And I’ll pretend you’re Kima – she’s gay too, right?
Lacey Lanning @RaceyLaceyDJ
I’m not gay. I just like to swing both ways.
Bryce Horrigan @BryceTripleB
Now you’re talking. Okay, Baltimore it is. You sort it out and I’ll get Tom to book the flights.
Lacey Lanning @RaceyLaceyDJ
Tell the thieving bastard that Chrissie wants her old iPhone back.
Bryce Horrigan @BryceTripleB
Shit, forgot about that, sorry. But needs must. I’ll make it up to her. In more ways than one.
Lacey Lanning @RaceyLaceyDJ
Spending money for us, too? Say a grand each.
Bryce Horrigan @BryceTripleB
Jeez, a couple of hookers would be cheaper.
Lacey Lanning @RaceyLaceyDJ
Yes, but riskier – in every way.
Bryce Horrigan @BryceTripleB
True. It’s a deal then.
Lacey Lanning @RaceyLaceyDJ
Good. But NO BITING!
Bryce Horrigan @BryceTripleB
Promise.
Lieutenant Haye and Captain Sorrell stared once again at the exchange of direct messages in near disbelief. Twitter had informed them they had been deleted from Bryce’s account AFTER his murder, and no wonder – they had lured Horrigan to his death.
‘Someone didn’t want us to see these, cap’n. And now Lacey Lanning has disappeared off the face of the fucking earth,’ Haye said.
‘Maybe our Scottish reporter can help. Bring him in,’ Sorrell instructed Haye, before returning to his thoughts.
81 #NorthAgain
Edwina Tolan @QueenBee
Would you be interested in information that shatters the Bryce myth?
April Lavender @AprilReporter1955
Was always told you shouldn’t speak ill of the dead. But then again, the dead don’t sue! What myth?
Edwina Tolan @QueenBee
His pro-choice myth.
April Lavender @AprilReporter1955
Go on…
Edwina Tolan @QueenBee
I have got proof from two Bryce exs that he ordered them to have abortions.
April Lavender @AprilReporter1955
Proof?
Edwina Tolan @QueenBee
Baby scan proof. Sent them to a private clinic to avoid bad publicity. All during his pro-choice rantings about that dead cheerleader.
April Lavender @AprilReporter1955
Wow, can you email me the scans?
Edwina Tolan @QueenBee
No. Shall only meet face-to-face. I’m at my holiday lodge in Aviemore.
‘Great, another trip north. That woman’s a control freak. And I’ll need to take the bloody car this time as she’s in the back of beyond.’ April was moaning to herself when she was interrupted by her ringing mobile.
‘Miss Lavender, it’s your number one police confidant,’ DCI Crosbie said loftily.
‘Hello, detective,’ April replied in her usual cheery manner. ‘Do you have a nice little story for me?’
‘No. I have an April Lavender-sized story – i.e. fucking huge,’ Crosbie replied, straight-faced.
‘Oh, you are a cheeky one,’ replied April, who was not only used to insults, but also familiar with DCI Crosbie’s Tourette’s syndrome manner.
‘Do you remember that washed-up DJ you interviewed in Inverness recently? The one who had been shagging Bryce Horrigan and probably anything else that moved,’ Crosbie said.
‘Lacey Lanning? Of course. Why?’ April asked.
‘I’ll tell you why. The stupid cow has only gone missing,’ Crosbie said.
‘Oh no!’ April said, the colour draining from her face. ‘She left a voicemail last night saying she desperately needed to speak to me. She had something important to tell. She promised to call me after her show. I fell asleep in my chair waiting for the phone to ring. She never called back. I was going to call her again this morning.’
‘You’re not going to get her. Her phone is in her car, and there’s no sign of Lacey,’ Crosbie explained. ‘I’m assured she wouldn’t have walked out on her job at the radio station, as I understand it was something of a last chance saloon as far as her career goes. Have you still got the voicemail message from her?’ he asked hopefully.
‘Here’s the thing, I went to listen back to it this morning and it’s been deleted. I could have done it accidentally but I specifically remember pressing the “number two” to save it as I knew it was important.’
‘And I thought it was only journalists who hacked people’s phones. Anyway, we’re going public with it later today, but thought I’d give you a heads-up first. Just keep me in the loop if she gets in contact, would you?’ Crosbie asked.
‘Thanks. I’ll tell the newsdesk. You caught me just in time. I’m actually heading back u
p north shortly. Aviemore this time, to interview Edwina Tolan. Pasty’s mum. Yet another of Bryce Horrigan’s ex-lovers. There seems to be plenty of them about.’
‘Mind me asking what the story is?’
‘You know I’m not supposed to, but if you promise not to breathe a word to anyone else?’
‘Cross my arsehole and hope to die,’ Crosbie replied.
‘Think you got your idiom a wee bit muddled there, but anyway, Edwina says Bryce ordered his lovers to have abortions. Can you imagine that? The courageous campaigner for women’s rights,’ April said excitedly.
‘You do love a bit of scandal, don’t you? Well, stay in touch. Especially if you hear anything about Lacey. And be careful on the A9. It’s deadly. As the Doors once sang, “Keep your eyes on the road, your hands upon my cock”.’
‘Er, I don’t think they did actually. But thanks all the same for your concern,’ April smiled. She reminded herself to DM Connor with the developments before heading for her car.
82 #TheFinalCountdown
‘Cap’n, we’re down to our final trolls,’ Haye said, as he entered Sorrell’s office with Fidel.
‘How many?’ Sorrell asked.
‘We have 422 unaccounted for,’ Haye said almost apologetically.
‘Our trolls handing themselves in has dried up, too,’ Fidel added. ‘We’re getting two or three a day, but that’s all.’
‘And we’ve done all our usual checks? The Wi-Fi and the CCTV and all the rest?’ the captain asked.
‘The 400-odd left are more professional. They’ve masked their IP addresses. Just like Baby Angel and Bryce Horrigan’s own account too,’ Fidel explained.
‘Professional trolls, who’d have thought?’ Sorrell said, shaking his head. ‘The colonel isn’t going to like this. He’s convinced our killer will be one of them. Goddamn Twitter. What is its purpose? I mean, really? I might be an old stick in the mud, but for the life of me I’ll never understand it. Never.’
Haye and Fidel thought better of trying to give an answer. The captain had left them well and truly stumped.
***
As Sorrell predicted, Colonel Cowan was incandescent with rage. ‘422? We have 422 suspects we simply can’t find? What other homicide investigation would have 422 suspects unknown?’
‘This isn’t like any other homicide investigation, sir.’
‘I know that, Sorrell. Don’t point out the blatantly obvious.’ His voice was almost at fever pitch.
‘Then don’t tell me how to run MY homicide investigation,’ Sorrell snapped back. He had never spoken to his superior that way. He had never needed to. It stunned the colonel into silence. And Sorrell wasn’t finished. ‘Now will you please let me get on with solving the case my way? I am following some definite lines of inquiry. And I can do without all this Twitter crap.’
The colonel leaned back in his chair and wiped his brow. He was a chastised and defeated man. All he could muster by way of a reply was, ‘Keep me up to speed with any developments,’ but there was no conviction in his voice.
Sorrell left his office without saying another word. But the colonel was left in absolutely no doubt that Bernard Sorrell was nobody’s bitch. It would be the last time he ever shouted at his captain.
83 #SpillingTheBeans
Connor had just received April’s DM about heading north when he took a call from Lieutenant Haye, who was as forthright as he’d been with Tom O’Neill.
‘Connor Presley? This is Lieutenant Haye, from Baltimore Homicide. We need to talk. Be at Captain Sorrell’s office for 2pm.’ Connor checked his watch. It was already twenty-five to two. ‘2pm. Sharp,’ Haye added, as if reading Connor’s mind, and with no apology for the short notice. Connor had met many policemen over the years, but none as straight-talking as this pair.
He hoped they were still unaware of his contact with Geoffrey Schroeder. Connor dare not mention the prime suspect as any police involvement would see any chance of his world exclusive scoop disappear.
The journalist arrived right on time and was shown into the captain’s office by Haye, who took up his usual position by his boss’s side, like a loyal guard dog. Connor strode towards Sorrell’s desk, but before he could offer a handshake, he was asked by the police captain to take a seat. He obviously wasn’t the handshaking type.
‘What can you tell me about Bryce Horrigan? And, please, spare me the sugar-coated version. I want to know what he was really like, what he got up to with his women,’ Sorrell said.
Connor had to make a quick calculation. They didn’t seem to know about his Schroeder contact. They were still concentrating on the women. So, after recounting a quick version of their professional relationship, Connor moved onto Bryce’s love of the high-life and women.
Sorrell and Haye each looked more bored than the other, until the captain interrupted. ‘I’ve heard all this power’s-an-aphrodisiac stuff. I need more than he was a big-headed, womanising pain in the ass? What you got?’
Connor had to marvel at this detective’s ability to get straight to the point. He also had the physical presence that made you want to tell the truth. ‘I don’t know if you’ve been told this, but two of Bryce’s ex-lovers have ended up back in Scotland with similar injuries,’ Connor said, then let the sentence hang in the air to see the reaction.
Lieutenant Haye suddenly stopped using the back wall as a support. But Sorrell’s demeanour didn’t change. Connor would hate to play him at poker.
‘What sort of injuries?’ Sorrell asked.
‘Kind of like scratches. Or bites. Around their breasts, neck areas,’ Connor explained.
‘Any of these women been to the United States lately?’ Sorrell asked.
‘Well, Patricia Tolan was living with him in New York before it all turned sour.’
‘Yeah, we know about her,’ Sorrell replied.
‘And Lacey Lanning told my colleague she also went to see him in New York, but she didn’t say when. Only in the last six months,’ Connor heard himself say. ‘And then there’s Chrissie Hardie. Bryce wooed her from some student he clashed with on television. She moved to New York, too. PR, I’m told. I’ve got a number for her but haven’t been able to get hold of her yet.’
Captain Sorrell abruptly concluded the chat. ‘Thank you for your help, Mr Presley. If you have any other information, please call me.’ Sorrell then added reluctantly, ‘I guess I also owe you one. If this leads to anything, you’ll be the first to know.’
Connor couldn’t help beaming from ear to ear. ‘Thank you, captain.’
Sorrell waited until the reporter had left before he turned to Haye and cracked a rare smile. ‘We already had the three women. Now we have three motives. Let’s close this thing down, Haye.’
84 #Retribution
North Branch Correctional Institution was in lock-down after the guards had struggled to control the inmates. Even the longest serving staffers couldn’t remember when the prisoners had been this crazy before. The place had been buzzing since they heard about their new arrival, with the sense of anticipation crackling through the air like electricity. The prison warden feared the worst. He’d had enough of his men attacked lately and ordered that all inmates were to be confined to their cells indefinitely. It did nothing to dampen their spirits.
Finally, the focus of their attention arrived. Ex-detective Colin Cooper was wearing his prison issue orange jumpsuit, as he was led through the facility. His cocky stride had been replaced by the slump-shouldered trudge of a broken man. Just the merest sight of the hated former cop, who loved to beat suspects, sent prisoners into a frenzy. They goaded him with cries of ‘Welcome to hell, Coops,’ and shouted obscenities, throwing items ranging from tea cups to their own excrement in his direction.
It was more like a Roman coliseum with a condemned Christian marching to his death. Cooper was to be held in solitary confinement for his own safet
y. But the warden knew he couldn’t protect him forever. Sooner or later he would require the solitary cell for another prisoner, leaving the ex-cop to his fate. Colin Cooper didn’t care. He had beaten to death the woman he loved because he couldn’t control her.
Control was the reason he had left Stephanie. He had wanted a woman who would do exactly as he said. To fuck when she was told. To earn money. To love, honour and obey, as the old marriage vows go. Instead, he had had to beat a confession out of Lindy that she had been caught in a police sting, going behind his back once more even though she had promised, on her mother’s life, that she wouldn’t moonlight again. Worse still, she had told the cops everything about their lucrative business with room 1410. That was tantamount to treason as far as Cooper was concerned. He had hit her, then hit her again, before he lost all memory of what happened next. The Chief Medical Examiner’s autopsy report said the victim had sustained injuries ‘consistent with an automobile accident’. Her once beautiful features were only able to be identified through her dental records.
Cooper could have put a bullet in his brain but that would have been an easy way out. He wanted to die for what he had done. But he wanted to suffer too, the way his poor Lindy had.
One week later, the ex-detective would get his wish when he was transferred from solitary to the main facility. The inmates had cleared a cell as a ‘reception room’ especially for him. He was led there by a throng of black prisoners, almost all of whom he had put away, after dishing out his customary beating in custody. Waiting for him inside the cell was Tre Paul Beckett, his boxer’s hands already swathed in the bandages he used to wear before donning his gloves for the ring. But the gloves would remain off this time. Colin Cooper stepped into the cell surrounded by the baying mob, fully resigned to his fate.
TP would never get the early release he’d been promised by Lieutenant Haye, to resume his fighting career. Not after he had a life-term added to his sentence for beating to death the former Baltimore Homicide detective, Colin Cooper.
85 #ReverseBug
‘Cap’n, we’ve found the computer Horrigan’s tweets are being sent from,’ Haye said excitedly.
DM for Murder Page 19