‘I know that you wouldn’t, but the fact is, Anj, it’s not the other way around and this isn’t the first time.’
‘I’m not at risk this time. We’re not at risk.’ Henley could see that Rob wasn’t buying her bullshit. ‘I’m not asking you to come home,’ she said and took the dog lead from his hand.
‘You don’t want me back?’
‘That’s not what I said. Of course I want you back. I just don’t want you to come back until we’ve caught who’s doing this.’
‘But you said that you have a suspect.’
‘It’s a bit more complicated than that. Sweetheart, I know that I can be hard-headed at times.’
‘Hard-headed is an understatement.’
‘Rob, come on. I’m trying.’
‘So, you agree with me? It was right for me to leave?’
‘Yes. It was and if I’m honest with myself, it’s probably better that we’re not together right now; not while Olivier is still out there.’
‘I don’t like it that you’re on your own. Are they looking after you?’
Henley could hear the apprehensiveness in her husband’s voice. She knew what he really meant. If there was someone else sleeping in the place where he should have been.
‘I stayed with Stanford the other night. You know what he’s like. He’s a hard man to say no to. They’ve got surveillance on the house and there hasn’t been anything to worry about. Trust me. I’m fine.’
‘I’m glad that you stayed with Stanford. At least I know that you’re going to be in safe hands with him and Gene looking after you, but fine isn’t good enough,’ Rob said. ‘I do love you. I know that I’m not the easiest but it’s—’
‘I know that you do.’ Henley reached out and hugged him. She felt his body stiffen and then relax a bit as she kissed him.
‘You could stay tonight,’ Rob said as they pulled apart.
‘God, no. Your mum would put a pillow over my face in my sleep.’
Rob laughed. ‘Come on, she ain’t that bad.’
‘Isn’t she?’ Henley pulled gently on Luna’s leash and they continued to walk.
‘It hasn’t been a picnic for me, you know,’ Rob replied.
‘Your mum waiting on you hand and foot, please.’
‘She asked me if we were getting divorced.’
‘I’m surprised that she didn’t download the application forms for you. What did you say?’
‘I told her that it was just your work.’
She ran through the logistics of staying the night in west London and then getting back to the SCU in the morning. They were running a distant second to actually spending the night and seeing her daughter in the morning.
‘OK, I’ll stay,’ she said.
Chapter 69
‘I didn’t know that we were doing flexi hours.’ Stanford held the door open for Henley. ‘It’s almost nine thirty.’
‘I got stuck in traffic,’ she replied.
‘From Brockley?’
‘Kensal Green.’
‘Ah,’ replied Stanford, the realisation of where Henley had been dawning on him. ‘How’s my little Ems?’
‘She’s good. She asked about you and she drew you this.’ Henley handed him a piece of paper etched in orange, purple, blue and green crayon. ‘Apparently, it’s you and her in your car.’
Stanford smirked as he turned the drawing round. ‘She really caught the blue in my eyes.’
‘Where’s Stephen?’ Henley looked towards the empty office.
Stanford shrugged. ‘Haven’t seen him since yesterday afternoon. Why?’
‘I need to tell him that I’ve put in an official complaint against DS Lancaster.’
‘Shit, Henley. You know what’s going to happen when people find out that you grassed up another detective?’
‘She could have jeopardised this investigation by giving sensitive information to the press. Who does she think she is?’ Henley said angrily.
‘Hey, don’t have a go at me. I think that you did the right thing. I just want you to be ready for the backlash.’
‘I know. I’m sorry.’
‘Accepted.’ Stanford entered the kitchen and switched on the kettle. ‘Anyway, I got that information you asked for. So, your boys, Blaine, Pine and Naylor… Tea or coffee?’ he said as he held up a mug.
‘Tea,’ said Henley, reaching for the sugar.
‘All three were absolutely as clean as a whistle until the contempt of court and perverting the course of justice thing. Did you know that you can get two years for contempt of court?’
‘I did actually.’
‘Course you did. The judge made an example of all them. Blaine got whacked with two years; being a lawyer he should have known better. Pine and Naylor got six months. Doesn’t matter that they only had to do half of their sentence. Prison is prison. Naylor got sent to Pentonville, but you’ll never guess where Pine and Blaine ended up?’ Stanford handed Henley her cup of tea as they walked back to her desk.
‘I honestly have no idea.’
‘You didn’t even try. They were both sent to Belmarsh.’
‘Really? That’s a bit harsh. They should have gone to a Cat C prison, but Olivier was in the High Security Unit. He wouldn’t have had any contact with them.’
Henley spotted a brown archive box on her desk. Ramouter sat at the desk opposite, head down, phone in the crook of his neck as he wrote furiously on the notepad in front of him. ‘What is that?’ she asked, pointing at the archive box.
‘I told you. I got the information that you asked for. That is the original investigation file for the contempt of court case.’ Stanford wheeled over a chair and sat down next to Henley’s desk. ‘Custody records are on top.’
Henley put down her cup of tea and pulled out a yellow folder. Inside were the custody records for Naylor, Pine and Blaine. She pulled out four small pale blue notebooks tied together with an elastic band.
‘So, as we know, two weeks into the trial the jury that our dead jurors were on was discharged,’ said Stanford. ‘According to the court transcripts, the judge only went as far as to say that one of the jurors was in contempt of court and that’s the end of that. Three days later the trial starts again.’
‘What exactly did Blaine tell Naylor and Pine?’ Henley flicked through Naylor’s custody record, the document that detailed almost every moment of his brief stay at Snow Hill police station.
‘He told Naylor and Pine that Olivier’s first two victims had raped him when he was in the army, which makes no sense to me, surely that would give them a reason to find him guilty of murder?’
‘There’s only one reason why Blaine would have done that,’ said Henley. ‘He wanted the jury discharged. Ideal scenario would be if Naylor, Pine and Zoe convinced the rest of the jurors to find Olivier not guilty of murder and guilty of manslaughter or – as mad it sounds – acquit him, or worst-case scenario, it’s three against nine and that’s enough for a hung jury.’
‘Madness,’ said Stanford. ‘Maybe there’s something in that dusty box that will shed more light on this.’
‘The prosecution in that trial were in a dilemma. They wanted to show Olivier’s motive for the murders but they couldn’t risk the jurors losing sympathy for the victims. Not that it mattered,’ Henley mused. ‘Remember, he sat in that witness boss for three days and denied everything. His defence team never submitted that he was a rape victim or was suffering from PTSD because as far as he was concerned it was all a set-up and he never did it. So, Blaine tells Naylor and Pine, then what?’
‘According to Naylor’s evidence, he discussed it with Pine and they agreed to keep the information to themselves. But Pine has other ideas and according to the witness statements, during one of their breaks—’
‘Who was the witness?’ asked Henley.
‘Carole Lewis. She says that she was smoking a cigarette with Daniel Kennedy and Michael Kirkpatrick when Pine told them what he had found out.’
‘Carole Lewis told the
judge?’ Henley asked as she put down Naylor’s custody record and picked up Pine’s file.
‘No, she didn’t. Zoe Darego did. Michael Kirkpatrick didn’t see what all the fuss was about.’
‘How did Zoe find out?’
‘Kennedy told her what Pine had said, but Zoe didn’t do anything until Blaine followed her onto the bus and threatened her. Zoe, then being a very dutiful juror, wrote a note to the judge. It was all downhill from there.’
Henley reached over to the pot of pens on her desk and pulled out a yellow highlighter and began to mark the pages of a custody record.
‘Shit, no one ever took swabs?’ Henley said, picking up Naylor’s custody record for a second time and flicking through the pages again, just to make sure that she hadn’t missed anything.
‘What are you talking about?’
‘Pine was arrested at 9.57 a.m. by DC Leissner and Naylor was arrested at 9.44 a.m. by DC Connor. They both arrive at Snow Hill police station at 10.42 a.m. Pine’s detention is authorised at 10.45 a.m. and Naylor at 10.50 a.m. by Custody Sergeant Dixon. Pine requests the duty solicitor but Naylor doesn’t, and he’s interviewed at 11.30 a.m. Pine’s placed into a cell at 11.25 a.m. and then he’s taken out at 12.38 p.m. for a consultation with his solicitor. He’s interviewed at 1.25 p.m. and he’s not charged until 3.57 p.m. Naylor is charged at 3.35 p.m. They’re both in the station all day and no one has taken any samples of their DNA and they weren’t livescanned.’
Stanford sat up straighter in his chair. ‘Are you sure?’
‘I’ve been through both their custody record three times and there’s no entry for anyone either taking Naylor and Pine’s prints or any samples.’
‘How could someone not take their prints or DNA?’ Ramouter asked incredulously. ‘It’s the first thing that they would have done after they were booked in. That’s standard procedure.’
Henley could feel all eyes on her as she tried to process what this meant. Human error would be the simple answer. A busy custody station with overworked civilian staff, someone may have just forgotten or thought that someone else had completed the mundane task of checking that your suspect was who he said he was and wasn’t a career criminal. All they had to do was make sure that the detainee kept their hand firmly on the glass while a scan was taken of their fingerprints and palm and kept their mouth open while his cheeks were swabbed.
‘What about Chance Blaine? He’s still sitting in Lewisham waiting to find out if he’s going to be charged with murder.’
‘I’ve only got him bang to rights for helping Olivier, not for murder,’ said Henley. ‘But Naylor? He lied about knowing Carole Lewis.’
‘You don’t seriously think that it’s him, do you? Naylor, I mean,’ Stanford asked. ‘Someone not doing their job properly is not evidence. No offence, Henley, in terms of physical evidence, there’s nothing linking Naylor to the murders of Lewis, Kennedy and Darego.’
‘But we can’t write Naylor off,’ Ramouter interjected. ‘He did lie about his association with Carole Lewis and we have unidentified DNA on Carole’s body; it could be his.’
‘And according to the court transcripts, all of this started with Zoe writing a letter to the judge.’ Henley picked up a marker from her desk and went up to the whiteboard.
‘So, what do we do? Arrest Naylor?’ asked Ramouter.
‘Not yet,’ said Henley. ‘Stanford’s right, we need something physical. Ramouter, I’m going to need you to chase up the results of the DNA swabs that I took off Naylor. We can’t be pushed to the back of the queue on this,’ she said before adding Naylor’s name to the suspect list.
Chapter 70
‘Hold on. Let me get this straight.’ Pellacia placed his hands in a steeple under his chin. ‘Karen Bajarami is the woman who arranged for the delivery of Cheung’s head to your front door?’
‘It’s her on the CCTV,’ said Henley. ‘I’ve met her, Ramouter’s met her and I can confidently say that’s her.’
‘OK. Is there any footage of her actually going to the storage unit and physically handling the box?’
‘No,’ Henley conceded.
‘At best, the footage is circumstantial. Like a lot of your evidence in these investigations.’
It was all Henley could do not to throw something in Pellacia’s face.
‘We’ve got a statement from the courier, Vincent Tiegan,’ said Ramouter, who was sitting next to Henley. ‘We get him in for a VIPER ID viewing and if he identifies the woman who handed him the package as Bajarami—’
‘It’s still not enough,’ said Pellacia. ‘What about any of the prints from the box? Forensics?’
‘Anthony recovered four sets of fingerprints,’ said Henley. ‘Mine, Rob’s and the courier’s were eliminated, but the fourth came back unmatched to any on the system. Olivier’s DNA was found in Elliot Cheung’s hair.’
Pellacia loosened his tie. ‘If we can get Bajarami’s prints, and it’s a match, that will be better. Any reason why we can’t bring her in now?’
‘She’s not fit to be discharged and her being linked to the delivery of Cheung’s head is one thing. The problem is that we don’t have any evidence that she was involved with Olivier’s escape,’ said Ramouter.
‘It’s not exactly a leap to think that she’s involved, in some way, with Olivier’s escape if she’s arranged for the delivery of the head of Olivier’s last victim.’
Henley thought back to when she had first met Karen Bajarami. She was professional, courteous and didn’t give the slightest hint of any favouritism towards Olivier. Whereas the governor had almost fallen over himself with his adoration for Olivier.
‘What about Blaine?’
Henley sighed wearily. ‘Blaine gave a “no comment” interview once he got a solicitor in. The CPS are now advising that we charge him with obstruction of a police officer and bail him for everything else. Which is absolute bollocks. We’ve got more than enough evidence to charge Blaine with assisting Olivier and with fraud.’
‘They want us to release him. Christ.’
‘I’d prefer it if he was remanded into custody, but Blaine could lead us to Olivier if we keep an eye on him.’
‘Is there anything else?’ Pellacia said.
‘One more thing. Ramouter?’ said Henley.
Ramouter cleared his throat. ‘We have someone who may be the last person to have seen Sean Delaney alive. The problem is that he’s a drug addict and was under the influence at the time.’
‘Any half-decent defence barrister would rip his evidence to pieces,’ said Pellacia.
‘Aye, most likely, but what he now says is that he saw someone who he thinks was Delaney being placed into what he believes was an ambulance. Not the van version, but an estate car. There is no record of Delaney being admitted to any of the local hospitals, but it got me thinking. Dominic Pine, one of the jurors, is a paramedic. Zoe and Kennedy were involved in grassing Pine and Naylor up to the judge. The last person that Delaney was seen with may have been a—’
‘All of this according to a drug addict,’ interrupted Pellacia.
‘It can’t be ignored, guv. If you let me finish.’
‘I’m not ignoring anything. I don’t like speculation and that’s a lot of speculation. Is Pine up on your suspect board?’
‘No, he isn’t,’ Henley conceded. ‘But you shouldn’t dismiss what Ramouter has to say.’
‘All our appeals for witnesses have resulted in nowt,’ Ramouter said stubbornly.
‘And it could be that your drug addict may have just made a mistake,’ said Pellacia, ‘but it’s something that you’re going to have to follow up. Where was Pine when Delaney went missing?’
‘That’s the thing,’ said Henley. ‘Pine has an alibi. He was working when Delaney, Zoe and Kennedy went missing.’
‘OK,’ said Pellacia. ‘The next step has to be to talk to Bajarami. Olivier is out there and she’s the closest—’
There was a sharp knock on the door before Joanna poked her he
ad through.
‘Sorry to interrupt,’ said Joanna. ‘Thought you should know. The exhumation licence has come through. They’re going to be digging Carole Lewis up on Sunday night.’
Chapter 71
It was almost ten and Henley thought about the times she would have welcomed walking into a quiet house, but that was before Rob, Emma and Luna had left. She spotted Emma’s stuffed rabbit under the kitchen table and tried to push back the tears that were burning her eyes. She turned around and got back in the car.
She knew that it was a bad idea going to Pellacia’s house. When she got there she sat outside with the engine running. She watched the front window for a few minutes. Television light flashed through the gap in the curtains. She jumped when someone tapped loudly on the window.
‘How much longer are you going to spend sitting in your car?’ asked Pellacia.
Henley rolled down the window.
‘Rob’s gone, Emma’s with him. Even Luna has gone,’ she said, turning off the car engine. ‘I can’t stay in an empty house. It’s too quiet.’
‘Well, you’d better come in then.’
‘Why didn’t you go back to your in-laws?’ Pellacia asked, closing the front door behind him.
She pretended that she hadn’t heard him. She walked into the living room, aware that Pellacia was watching her every move. There had been some additions to the photographs on the mantelpiece above the empty fireplace. A smiling baby boy. Another of a woman who had the same eyes as Pellacia, but who had now forgotten he was her son.
‘How is she?’ Henley asked.
‘No better, no worse. Last week she thought that I was Uncle Tony. He died when I was twelve.’
Henley’s mind went to Ramouter and his wife. She couldn’t imagine what it must feel like to watch your wife or your mother slowly lose their capacity to remember you.
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