by Rachel Green
“A public honour doesn’t go unnoticed should you ever decide to climb the legal ladder.”
David rubbed his beard. “You may have a point there. Perhaps magistrates wouldn’t be difficult if I was a judge. Thank you, Detective Inspector.”
“You’re welcome. I’m glad to be of help.” While gave him a nod. “I’ll leave you in peace, then.”
Eden reached out to catch his wrist. “But how are you, Detective Inspector? Last time I saw you, you were comatose on the floor of my kitchen.”
White tapped his head with his knuckles. “It takes more than a shovel to stop the police. I’d be right as rain if they weren’t forcing me to take a week’s sick leave.”
Meinwen handed her the second bunch of lilies. “I’ll be in touch about the circle stone.”
“The what?” Eden looked puzzled for a moment. “Right, yes. I’d forgotten all about that. What was in that chest, by the way?”
“Forgery plates for something. Maybe fifty pound notes. I didn’t get to see them.”
“That was a lot of trouble to go to to hide a couple of steel plates.”
“It wasn’t just the plates.” Meinwen watched the inspector as he left the room. “It was the seventeenth century travelling case of a witchfinder. Full of torture instruments. Horrible, really, but historically an important find. Worth hundreds of thousands, I expect.”
“Who does it belong to now?”
“I don’t know. It depends on Shirley Burbridge’s will, I suppose. It’s a pity. It should be in a museum.”
“George Burbridge, then.”
“If he’s the benefactor.” Meinwen’s phone rang and she pulled it out of her bag. “It’s Michelle. I’ll have to take this.” She held a hand up as a goodbye and hurried from the room, stabbing the ‘accept call’ button as the door closed behind her. “Hello?”
“Meinwen?”
“Yes, Michelle, it’s me. Are you okay?”
“It’s Malcolm’s ghost. He won’t leave me alone.”
Chapter 45
Meinwen knocked on the green front door, the flat of her hand a softer retort than either the bell or the brass lion’s-head knocker. It was opened seconds later and Michelle beckoned her inside.
“I saw you arrive from the bedroom window. I’ve locked it in the cellar.”
“The ghost of Malcolm Glover?”
“Yes. I think he followed me home.”
“Did he say what he wanted?”
“He’s a ghost. What would you expect him to say?”
“I thought you were a spiritualist? Isn’t talking to ghosts your speciality?”
“Right.” Michelle rubbed her temple. “Er…He didn’t respond.”
“Thought not.” Meinwen went through the living room to the kitchen, trying not to look at the mess.
“Are you casting aspersions on my ability to talk to the spirits?”
“What? No. “Meinwen stood to one side of the cellar door and slid back the bolt. “You couldn’t talk to him because he’s not really a ghost.” She opened the door a crack and spoke into the gloom beyond the patch of kitchen light. “You may as well come out, Graham. You’re outnumbered.”
“The house was locked and yet here he is. It’s Malcolm’s ghost.”
“No, Michelle, it’s his son, Graham.” Meinwen bolted the door again. “You think it’s Malcolm because you saw his body and expected it to be. This, however, is Graham, who has a key.”
“It can’t be. Graham scarpered.”
“And now he came back for something.”
“Why would he? He’s a wanted man.” Michelle pointed to the cellar door. “That’s Malcolm’s ghost in there.”
“Do you honestly believe you could lock a ghost in the coal cellar?”
“I didn’t think of it like that.” She flopped to a kitchen chair. “Why would Graham come back?”
“I don’t know. Something that was worth the risk, at any rate. Money? Weapons? Jewelry?”
Michelle clapped a hand to her throat. “My necklace.”
“Valuable?”
“Four thousand pounds worth of diamonds and rubies. Graham gave it to me a few days ago.”
“Are you sure it was real?”
“Oh yes. It was his grandmother’s.” She hurried toward the stairs. “Besides, I had it valued.”
“And yet you keep it in your bedroom?”
“What else would I do? I can’t afford a safety-deposit box like Graham.” Her voice went quieter and Meinwen could hear the thump of her footsteps over head. “It’s gone. And my rings. And my pearls too.”
Meinwen pulled out her phone and dialed Sergeant Peters. “Sergeant? We have Graham Browning locked in the cellar at fourteen, Claremont Road. He’s stolen a good deal of Michelle Barrett’s jewelry and we believe him to be armed.” She listened to his response before ending the call. “The police are on their way.”
“Good.” Michelle clattered down the stairs. “Remind me to ask them for a crime number. The insurance people always ask for that.”
“Insurance?” Meinwen frowned. “I suppose so. Clever of you to think of that.”
“Yes. I’ll make a list of what he’s taken.” She pulled a notebook out of her handbag and sat at the kitchen table.
“Er…priorities?” Meinwen looked at the cellar door. “We’ve got a potentially violent suspect locked in the cellar and you’re worried about your insurance claim? Besides, there’s no need. As soon as they catch him you’ll have it all back again.”
“I expect he’s fenced it all by now. He’s a criminal mastermind. You heard that policeman yesterday.”
“What policeman?” Meinwen frowned. She could feel a headache coming on and she was out of willow bark tea. “And how could he have fenced them if he’s locked in the cellar?”
“He’ll have got out of the delivery hatch by now.”
“Delivery hatch? You didn’t tell me he could get out.”
“You didn’t ask.”
“You said he was locked in the cellar.”
“And so he was, but I forgot about the delivery hatch. It opens onto the alley at the back of the house.”
“Good grief.” She was interrupted by the sergeant banging on the front door and hurried to open it. Peters and three other men in bullet proof vests entered. “False alarm I’m afraid. Michelle just told me there’s an exit to the alley. He’s probably gone.”
“Right, we’ll just check.” They hurried through to the kitchen, guns already drawn. Meinwen stayed by the front door, unwilling to be near firearms and a moment later Peters escorted Michelle from the kitchen to join her. “Just stay here, both of you.”
From her position Meinwen could see them open the cellar door and charge down it, hoping to surprise and overwhelm anyone down there. There was no gunfire and they reappeared after a minute, their guns holstered. “Gone.” Peters directed two of the other officers to search the rest of the house and spoke into his radio. “Suspect no longer in the vicinity. Be on the lookout for Graham Browning. One point eight meters, ninety-five kilos. Last seen wearing...” He looked at Michelle.
“Oh.” She closed her eyes. “A brown hooded jacket and jeans and one of those woolly hats.”
Peters relayed the information, gave a heavy sigh and sat on the edge of the table. “No idea where he might have gone, I suppose?”
Michelle shrugged. “Sorry.” She handed him her notebook. “Would you write the crime number on there, please?”
Meinwen could feel a thought niggling at her. She mentally reviewed the day’s conversations until she got to– “The bank.” She turned to Michelle. “You said Graham had a safety deposit box. Where was it?”
“I don’t know. Does it matter? He had a current account at Laverstone and Wells.”
“Brilliant.” Peters thumbed his radio again. “Possibility of suspect at Laverstone and Wells Bank…”
Chapter 46
“If anyone asks, you didn’t come with me.”
Meinwen nodded at Ser
geant Peters’s words, bracing herself against the dashboard as he decelerated from forty to zero outside the Laverstone and Wells branch. “At least it’s raining.”
He turned off the engine. “So?”
“Less people on the streets to get hurt.”
“I suppose. Look, Ms. Jones. You have to stay back. You can’t come into the bank with me. It’s too dangerous.”
“I can look after myself.”
“I know you can, but if you’re there I have to think about you. About where you are. About what you’re doing. About any potential danger zones you might inadvertently wander into, and if I’m thinking about you, I’m not thinking about how I can resolve a developing situation. My performance is impaired, all right?”
“Yes sergeant.” Meinwen put a hand on his arm. “You’ve made yourself quite clear.”
“Glad to hear it.” He nodded at the scene outside the window where two police cars and the armed response unit had turned up. “Here’s the backup. You’re welcome to stay in the car or not. Just don’t get in the way of my officers.”
“Roger that.” She squeezed his arm. “Good luck.”
“Thanks.” He left the car and began directing uniformed officers. They began cordoning off the door and moving the growing tide of spectators to a save distance. Meinwen got out and took shelter under the raised back door of one of the vans on the scene. She searched for Peters, locating him just as he went through the front door of the bank. Moments later members of the public started coming out, each ushered to safety by the waiting uniformed officers. Bank staff began to join them though Meinwen didn’t recognize anyone. She didn’t bank here since the black and gold décor reminded her too much of a church.
Radios crackled and three armed officers went inside. Meinwen watched the closed doors for several minutes, wondering what was going on inside.
“Excuse me, madam.” A uniformed officer stood at her side.
“Yes?”
“Should you be here? Are you a civilian or the lady from the independent assessment unit?”
“That’s right. I am.” She held out her hand. “Meinwen Jones, officer...”
“Constable Jenkins, Ma’am.” He declined the hand and saluted, then reached past her and pulled a plastic crate from the van. He opened it and pulled out a rolled up package. “Road spikes,” he said to her raised eyebrows. “You never know.”
Once he’d left she looked at the other equipment in the van. There was a fluorescent jacket hanging on a peg. It wouldn’t hurt to borrow it, would it? It was raining, after all. She shrugged it on and gathered up her hair to fasten with an elastic band. Another look through the contents of the van furnished her with a clipboard and pen. There were several officers she didn’t recognise here, and if she didn’t know them, the chances were they didn’t know either. She strode up to one.
“How’s it going in there? Any resolution yet?”
“Er, no Ma’am. Hostage situation. Chief Inspector Wilkes is deploying snipers.”
“Who’s the hostage?”
“A Mr. Edmund Fowler, Ma’am. The manager.”
“Very good, constable. Carry on.” Meinwen worried at her lip. Hostage situation? That meant Graham still had Inspector White’s gun, or another one. Peters hadn’t the experience of DI White, though he’d be quick to say he’d ‘been on a course’. She didn’t know Fowler, either, but whoever he was, he didn’t deserve to be this situation. Before anyone could stop her, she marched straight into the bank as if she was the Chief Constable on a promise.
Inside were several officers clustered around a stairwell. She marched down it, following the sound of voices to the vault. Pausing outside, she switched on the GPS device on her mobile phone and slipped it into her knickers.
She marched inside, taking in the situation with a glance. Peters stood to her right with two members of the armed response unit. Facing him, Graham held a gun to a tall, balding man with glasses, the barrel of the gun jammed into the hollow where the lower jaw terminated beneath the ear. “Graham? Let the poor man go. I’ll take his place.”
“Meinwen. I told you to stay well back.” Peters all but spat the words out. It would take a while for him to stop being angry with her once this was over. If she survived.
“You said I couldn’t come into the bank with you and I didn’t.” Meinwen took a step forward. “Come on, Graham. You’d rather have me as a hostage, wouldn’t you? It’s personal then. This poor man doesn’t know you from Adam.”
“All right.” Graham gave her an upward nod. “Take that coat off first. Last thing I need is you with a can of pepper spray.”
Meinwen shed both her coat and the fluorescent jacket, then turned a full circle. “See? No weapons. Michelle was very hurt by the jewelry you stole, by the way.”
“My grandmother’s necklace.” Graham shook his head. “It’s not like she was ever going to marry me, is it? She was just using me.”
“I can understand the necklace, but the rings? The earrings? The diamonds?”
“What diamonds? I didn’t take anything but the necklace.”
“Are you sure?”
“I think I’d remember diamonds.” He gave her an upward nod.
“She seems pretty sure about them. She’s already put in an insurance claim.”
He gave a bark of laughter. “That’s Michelle all over. How to take advantage of a shitty situation. It’s hardly be the first time she’s made something up that wasn’t there.” He shoved Mr. Fowler out of the way and grabbed Meinwen. The barrel of the gun was still warm. “Now, if you’ll be so kind, I’d like to go.”
Peters held up a hand. “Can’t let you leave, sir.”
“Let him, sergeant. He’ll let me free once he’s safely away, won’t you, Graham? You wouldn’t want to be a murderer, would you?”
“No…”Graham frowned and curled his free arm around her waist. “Nice and slowly then.”
“Let him go, sergeant. I’ll give you a ring when he lets me go.” She didn’t dare make the message more plain. It was Peters who’d given her the phone. He had the same model himself.
“All right, lads.” Peters backed away to let them past, then followed them up the stairs, past the other officers and out of the front door. Much to the dismay of the officers, he marched her around the corner to the side of the bank.
“Where are we going?” Meinwen stumbled as they stepped off the curb.
“I’ve got a car not far away.”
“Then you’ll let me go?”
“Something like that.”
Meinwen saw a familiar shape in the alley to their right and pointed to the left instead. “There’s your mum.”
“What?” Graham followed her direction, giving DI White enough of a distraction to step from the alley and twist one arm up under Graham’s gun arm, grabbing the hand holding the gun and giving it a vicious twist. The gun clattered to the cobbles and Meinwen grabbed the hand around her waist, fingers to Graham’s palm and thumb to the soft spot between the tendons of the third and fourth fingers. She twisted the hand up, took a step forward and spun around. Graham gave a yell and pitched forward to the wet cobbles, his right arm in White’s lock and his left hand still twisted in Meinwen’s grip. He shrieked. “You’re breaking my arm, you evil cow.”
“Sorry.” Meinwen let go and stepped back but Graham used the free arm coupled with the momentum of the twist to punch White in the side of the head, right on the injury he’d already sustained. White collapsed.
Graham scrambled to his feet, casting for the gun as Peters and the other officers pounded up the alley, the sergeant already barking orders into his radio.
Meinwen saw the gun at the same moment as Graham, but her shoved her out of the way and dived for it, heedless of the officers converging on the scene. He reached for the one thing that would help negotiate his escape but before his fingers could close around the butt a heavy foot stamped on them.
He howled, relinquishing the gun to the primal urge of sti
cking his injured hand under his armpit.
Meinwen smiled up at the newcomer.
“Complete rest, the doctor said. Not scuffle with bloody hooligans in the street.” Beryl picked up the gun by the barrel, her expression no different to how it would be were she holding a discarded piece of litter or a bag of dog eggs. “I don’t know which of the three of you to blame the most.”
Chapter 47
Meinwen couldn’t look at Sergeant Peters. He had a face like thunder despite White’s placatory hand on his arm. The detective inspector came over to her. “He’s not happy with you at all.”
“No. I suppose he isn’t.”
“He told you to stay out of the bank. You could have been killed.”
“I wasn’t.”
“More to the point, one of the officers could have been killed, thanks to you upsetting the balance of power he’d spent a considerable effort in establishing.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I just thought I could help. I knew Graham, you see. I had an idea of how his mind worked.”
“You met him yesterday, I’m told. Hardly the basis of a long friendship and the establishment of a rapport between you. Tell me this. Would you have let Ms. Barrett take your place?”
“Of course not. She hasn’t got the experience.”
“Well then, are you qualified in hostage negotiations?”
“No, but–”
“Then next time, if there is ever a next time, of course, since the Super may well insist we have no official business with you in the future, do what you’re bloody told.” He glanced up. “Look sharp. Here’s the Super now.”
“Detective Inspector. Ms. Jones.” Chief Superintendant Jeffries was a tall man in his fifties, his gray widow’s peak brushed back over the top of his head. “Jolly good work today. A go-get-em attitude is just what the station needs to take policing into the twenty-first century.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you sir.”
Meinwen stifled the smile that threatened to burst over her face. “Thank you very much, sir.”
“We’ll want you in the press conference, naturally.”