by Mari Hannah
Bad choice of words, Kate thought.
Was Marr playing games?
‘If this couple worried you so much, why did you not stay away from the casino?’
‘Gambling is what I do. It’s a big part of my life. I told you, the Pro is where I hang out. I have a lot of friends there. If there was any trouble, there are people on the premises trained to make it disappear.’
Kate let it ride.
She knew how difficult it was for Robbo to resist gambling, even though it was destroying his life, threatening his marriage, his job. It would be no different for a professional gambler like Marr. ‘This meeting between you and DS Robson may be highly significant. Can you remember his exact words? What he asked you, what you said in return?’
Hank took notes as Kate walked Marr through the conversation. The gambler paused now and then to think. Kate imagined her at the gaming tables, taking her time to consider her options before placing her bets. She quit talking when the door to the bar opened, losing her cool momentarily, her eyes pinned to a big man approaching the counter.
The detectives watched as the barman greeted him.
The two seemed to be well acquainted. A local, perhaps. Relaxing, Kate refocused on her witness. Had she perceived a threat, or was she making out she had? Her recovery was instantaneous.
She was on track in seconds.
‘Rob asked if I knew where he might find the girl. I asked him why he was interested. He wouldn’t say. It was obvious that he was on an important assignment. I’d never seen him so animated, even when he was on a roll in the casino. Granted, that wasn’t very often, but you know what I mean.’ She looked away, then at Kate. ‘I wish I hadn’t told him now.’
Hank raised his pen from his notepad, looking up. ‘Told him what?’
‘That the woman scared me. They both did. When you gamble, you develop a sixth sense, an ability to read people, especially those that might flip. Rob was really keen to find them, so I told him what I knew.’
‘Which was?’ Kate asked.
‘They hang out in Jesmond sometimes. My office looks down on to Osborne Road. I’ve seen them walk by once or twice, and drive by many times. I love my cars, so I tend to notice them. He drives an Audi R8. You don’t see too many of them about.’
Again, Hank lifted his pen. ‘Are you sure it was an R8?’
‘Positive. I’ve seen it parked outside one of the residential properties close to my office, though not for a few weeks. I’m hoping the bitch moved out. I not only work in Jesmond, I live there. It’s one thing running into them at the casino, but in Jesmond? That’s a bit too close for comfort.’
For me too, Kate thought.
Marr’s office was a stone’s throw from her own front door, practically around the corner, except that she wasn’t living there at the moment. For security reasons, on Bright’s advice, she’d locked up her house and moved in with Jo; strength in numbers and moral support were important at times like these. Other than collapsing into the same bed, they had hardly seen each other, let alone had a decent conversation, but it was good to hold her while she slept.
Kate refocused on the witness. ‘Where exactly was the R8 parked?’
‘I don’t know the house name or number, but it’s her place, not his.’
‘The road will do.’ Kate needed specifics.
Marr gave one that Hank didn’t bother writing down. It was a pivotal moment. The location rang a bell with both detectives, a road that Robbo had found on the PNC while looking for an R8. The detectives were a phone call away from a name and house number.
‘You think I’m to blame, don’t you, that I set Rob up?’
‘Did you?’ Kate asked.
‘No …’
Kate took a photograph of Marat Nikolaev from her pocket. ‘Have you ever seen this man?’
Marr’s poker eyes hardened. She didn’t answer.
Kate took it as a yes. ‘With the same girl?’
‘Maybe … I’m not sure.’
Marr was lying through her teeth. Hooking a forefinger round a stray hair, she raked it away from her forehead, embarrassed to have been found out. ‘I’ve answered your questions, so now I have one for you. Tell me the truth, Inspector. Am I in danger?’
‘Possibly.’ They all were, though Kate didn’t voice it.
‘Can you protect me?’
‘Depends …’ Kate picked her moment. ‘My DS was dead within hours of seeing you. After your meeting with him, who did you tell?’
80
Kate escorted Anita Marr to her vehicle, thanked her for her help and watched her drive away. The DCI was fairly sure she was on the level, but the jury would remain out until she’d completed her enquiries into the couple Robbo had been so keen to ID – assuming they even existed. When all was said and done, she only had Marr’s word for it. Kate turned to find Hank standing behind her, hands in pockets, a wry smile on his face.
‘What?’ she said.
‘Subtlety was never your strong suit, was it?’
‘Strong suit? Are you having a laugh? I was testing her.’
‘Robbo trusted her.’
‘We think he trusted her,’ she corrected him. ‘And I’m fairly sure it led to his death, aren’t you?’
Before he had a chance to answer, the armed response duo arrived.
Shifty lit a cigarette, offering the pack around. There were no takers. Now he’d shadowed Kate to her rendezvous, he was under the impression he’d be stood down. He had another thought coming. She needed his expertise and that of his colleague for a while longer. She checked the protocol for their continued involvement, then all four piled into their cars.
Hank took the wheel this time, heading towards Newcastle, freeing Kate to make a few calls en route. As she was not the SIO, she had to defer to Bright before taking further action. Going off-book to find Jo was one thing. She wouldn’t risk doing it again. The guv’nor was the first person she called, this time interrupting him at a senior officer’s strategy meeting he couldn’t get out of.
‘You’re making a habit of this,’ he said. ‘However, on this occasion, you’re forgiven. I’m glad you called. It gives me an excuse to leave.’
‘Guv, I think we know who Robbo was going to see: the owner of an R8 purchased in London, a woman who now lives in Jesmond. With your permission, Hank and I are going straight there. If she’s not in, we’ll play it by ear. I’ll get a warrant sorted in case we have any difficulties.’
‘Armed support are still with you?’
‘Yes, fully on board.’
‘OK, I’ll put a team of spotters in the area.’
Happy with her plan, he warned her to be careful.
Kate hung up, tapping on a second number, also on speed dial.
Carmichael picked up instantly.
‘Lisa, the searches Robbo carried out on the vehicle database. I need the Jesmond address for the R8.’
Carmichael gave it. ‘It’s a rental, guv. I checked.’
Kate loved the way her young DC anticipated what was coming next, and told her so. If she hadn’t found Marr first, Kate would have been chasing up the R8 herself. ‘How many occupants in the flat?’
Carmichael hit her keyboard at full pelt, a match for Garcia any day – and some. It didn’t take her long to find what she was after. ‘One according to the electoral roll. Her name is Stephanie Jackson. Guv, my enquiries with the DVLA list two cars registered there. Makes you wonder what she does for a living to own an R8 and a Porsche.’
‘Marr says she’s loaded. Does Jackson have form?’
More keystrokes as Carmichael checked the PNC. ‘One conviction for possession of Class A.’
‘Figures.’ They both knew that the rich were less likely to get busted for drugs.
‘It wasn’t much. Own use. She got off lightly. Sending an image through to your mobile.’
It arrived instantly and Kate confirmed receipt. Jackson was indeed a looker, just as Marr had described her. She asked Carmichael
to do some digging into her background. ‘Maybe her boyfriend registered the car to her address without her knowledge. If he’s been in her flat, then so has his DNA. I want a CSI team on standby and an immediate warrant for her home. Whoever obtains it needs to meet me there ASAP.’
‘It’ll probably be me, boss. We’re a bit thin on the ground here.’
‘OK, the warrant is your priority. Ask Andy to do a check on Jackson. Bright is on his way in. He’ll organise everything else.’
‘Hank said that Jo was my priority.’
‘She was, is …’ Kate paused, a worried exchange with Hank. ‘Where is she now?’
‘Asleep in your office.’
‘Make sure she stays that way. Tell the squad she’s not to go home under any circumstances. Get Maxwell to sit on her if necessary.’
‘Eurgh! Rather her than me.’
Kate laughed. Humour would get them through this.
81
Hank drove across the Tyne Bridge, taking the central motorway north, then east towards the target property. Kate was exhausted but also buzzing with anticipation. No organisation was foolproof. Like Robbo, she badly needed to find a link to Stephanie Jackson’s ‘foreign’ associate, hoping that she’d collapse under pressure, prepared to drop him in the shit once she was informed that a police officer had been murdered, a thought Kate shared with her 2ic. ‘Whether it’ll take us anywhere is less certain.’
‘Robbo’s questioning of Marr played a part in his death, Kate. Jackson’s boyfriend is the key—’
‘I agree, but he doesn’t sound like the type to testify against those higher up in the chain—’
‘In an investigation this big? No chance. Besides, the CPS will never agree to immunity from prosecution, not with Robbo’s blood on his hands, not to mention the victims of 0113—’
‘No, but in exchange for credible intel they might show leniency when the case comes to court.’
‘You think so?’
‘No, you divvi! That’s the line I’ll be peddling all the same.’
‘Good luck with that.’ He turned left, minutes away from their destination. ‘In or out of custody, a turncoat would be signing his own death warrant.’
‘That’s what I love about you, Hank. You look like you give a shit. Me? I’d gladly waste them all. These scumbags volunteer for what they do. Can I help it if their enemies have the ability to penetrate the walls of a high-security jail? Because that’s exactly where they’re heading, whether or not they help us crack this case. Their life expectancy is the least of my worries.’
Hank slowed, a head check in his rear-view mirror.
Kate was instantly on alert. A four-by-four was approaching at speed. Shifty took immediate action, straddling two lanes, ensuring that it couldn’t overtake. Kate tensed, turning her body round to look out the rear window, eyeing the cars behind. The four-by-four behind the firearms team indicated, then turned off.
Shifty flashed his lights.
False alarm.
The radio crackled into life, one of the spotters reporting that his team were in position, awaiting further instructions. ‘No sign of the R8, but the Porsche is parked across the road, ma’am. No lights or movement in the flat, front or rear. We’re as convinced as we can be that the property is empty. The neighbouring house is illuminated.’
Carmichael responded. ‘I have the warrant, boss. On my way.’
Kate pressed to transmit: ‘7824 to all units: two minutes out. Stand by.’
The street where Jackson lived was leafy and upmarket, a line of high-end motors parked on either side. Again, Kate used the radio: ‘7824 – on scene, hold your positions.’ Deflated by the fact that the house appeared to be deserted – not so much as a tell-tale flicker from a candle or mobile phone – she asked Hank to drive by and park up a short distance from the property.
He carried out her instructions, as did armed response, pulling in behind.
‘7824 – hold your positions and maintain radio silence.’ Unclipping her seat belt, Kate said, ‘Wait in the car, I won’t be long.’
Hank reached for the door handle. ‘Where you go, I go.’
‘Not this time, Hank.’
‘Kate—’
‘Stay. Put.’
He did.
Climbing from the vehicle, Kate informed Shifty not to follow. He wasn’t happy. She crossed the road, keeping as close as she could to the exterior of the three-storey Victorian terrace in case anyone was watching from Jackson’s ground-floor flat. Tapping on the door of the adjoining property, she waited.
A middle-aged man answered, a stern expression. ‘Yes, can I help you?’
‘I hope so.’ Kate threw him a wide smile which was not returned. ‘I’m sorry to disturb you at such a late hour, but I’ve obviously got the wrong house. I’m looking for Steph Jackson …’ She peered up and down the street, a finger to her lips, pretending to be clueless. ‘I know she lives round here somewhere. I’m ashamed to say I was a bit tipsy last time I was here. I was sure this was the one. Sorry to have troubled you … Is it the one next door?’
‘I wouldn’t bother knocking,’ the man grumbled. ‘Unless the lights are on or the music is blasting, they’re not in. I thought students were a pain, but Miss Jackson and her friend are ten times worse.’
Kate’s giggle turned into an enquiry. ‘Mind if I ask you something?’
‘Yes, I mind.’ He made a move to close the door.
‘You said “they” …’
He was too polite to ignore her.
Kate made a begging face. ‘I thought she’d thrown him out. Is he still living there?’
‘No, but he’s a frequent visitor.’
‘Right. He gives me the creeps.’
‘Well, at least we agree on something. Now sling your hook. I don’t want the likes of you round here. My wife is very ill. She’s had enough of the screaming and yelling. Do yourself a favour. Stay away from those two. They’re trouble.’
‘That’s what I thought.’ Kate held up ID. ‘Sir, I misled you. I’m an undercover police officer.’
‘About time.’
‘Excuse me?’ Kate was pleased that he hadn’t insisted on a name and rank, since she wasn’t at liberty to give him one.
‘My wife and I witnessed a serious assault yesterday and now you turn up?’ He checked the street nervously. ‘You’d better come inside.’
With his back turned, Kate gave Hank the thumbs up, then stepped over the threshold. Without sight of her, there wasn’t a hope in hell of him waiting in the car. The householder sat down in the living room and gave his name as William Rossiter. Kate explained that tracing Jackson was urgent.
‘It’s a bit late for that,’ he said angrily. ‘What we saw shook us up, I can tell you. We were extremely distressed by it. Miss Jackson’s friend, if you could call him that, dragged her out of the front door by her hair, manhandled her into his car and drove away. I know the police are under pressure, but what does it take to get a rapid response these days?’
Kate understood his hostility and felt bad that ‘her lot’ had let him and Jackson down. Cuts in funding were failing the community they served. Anger boiled in her gut. If the police had turned up and lifted the man, Robbo might still be alive. She suspected Jackson would follow him to the morgue if they ever found her body. Had the foreigner seen Robbo leave? Had she called to warn him that police were asking questions?
A fatal mistake.
‘So, you’re pretty convinced they’re not in there?’
‘I’m certain of it.’
‘Can you describe the layout of the flat for me, sir?’
‘It’s a mirror image of this one.’
Kate could see along the hallway. At the rear of the property, there was a large breakfast room – an extension she assumed – a table, eight chairs and bi-fold doors leading to the garden. ‘So, living room at the front, kitchen at the back, bedrooms and bathroom across the hallway?’ She’d had a peek on her way in.
‘Except I have three bedrooms upstairs and two above that, which Miss Jackson doesn’t have.’
‘That’s really helpful. I’ll get someone to come and take a statement from you. Sir, I have a warrant to search the premises next door, but there might be some noise going in, so apologies upfront for that. It won’t last long. There’s nothing for you or Mrs Rossiter to worry about. Please stay inside and lock the door when I leave.’
‘Far be it from me to spoil your fun, but there’s no need to kick the door down. You’re obviously far too busy to deal with an urgent callout, let alone a compensation claim for damages. I’m the owner and landlord of the apartment next door. An official complaint to the Chief Constable will be on his desk by morning. I didn’t like Miss Jackson, but she deserved protection.’ Rossiter slipped a hand into his trouser pocket. He drew out a set of keys, removed one and handed it over. ‘Help yourself. You’ll find the eviction notice on the mat.’
82
The spotters remained outside to ensure that the house the firearms officers were about to enter wasn’t under observation by those who might do them harm. Shifty went in first, followed by his colleague, shouts of ‘Clear, clear’ echoing through the ground-floor apartment as rooms were checked one by one.
Thirty seconds later, Kate and Hank were in.
Like Rossiter’s home, the place was classy. No expense had been spared on furniture, art and decor, but there were signs of a struggle. An armchair was lying on its side, tipped over, a broken mirror on the floor, red wine splashed across the carpet, a glass lying on its side, a small amount of what looked like blood. Trailing wires suggested a hasty exit by someone who’d removed technology in a hurry, leaving chargers plugged into the wall sockets.
Hank said flatly, ‘Must’ve been a hell of a fight.’