His attention was pulled back into the corridor as he noticed that Andy had stopped whistling under his breath as he wrestled with the clues. He was looking left, past Will’s chair. Will followed his gaze to see a tall doctor standing at the end of the corridor, carrying a sheaf of papers. He wasn’t one of the team that had come round earlier in the day. The man moved towards Will slowly, reading from one of the papers in his hand. He stopped in front of the constable.
‘I have to examine the patient. I am a specialist in brain injury. I come from Ukraine.’ Will squinted at his name tag, it was different from the usual hospital tags. He stood up, glancing towards Andy for support.
‘I’m sorry, sir,’ he said, ‘nobody can enter the room unless I have their name on my list. And I cannot see yours here.’ He glanced down at the sheet, never seeing the blow that sent him falling down to a mute slump on the floor. Andy Waters leapt to his feet and banged the emergency button to alert the security team. Without pausing, he ran down the corridor and leapt in front of the door to the prisoner’s room.
‘Get out of the way,’ said Grigor. ‘I do not want to hurt you, but I have to see that my friend is OK. Understand?’ Waters heard the sound of running feet, and the low insistent siren calling for support. He just had to hold out for a few seconds.
‘Sorry, mate,’ he said. ‘You can’t see him, he’s under arrest, and so are you.’ Waters moved to flip out his handcuffs but, as he would recount later, the speed of the guy was incredible. He chopped Waters across the side of his neck, to briefly cut off his oxygen, then held onto him as he slid down the wall.
Grigor opened the door, entered and wedged a chair under the handle to hold it shut. Filip was awake and looking at him, though only his eyes seemed to be able to move.
‘You came,’ Filip croaked.
‘I had to see that you were alive’, said Grigor, ‘but I have just a few moments before they come.’ He held Filip’s hand and kissed him on the forehead. He could not stop the treacherous tears from rolling down his face. ‘You must live, Filip. I cannot go on without you.’
Filip lifted a hand to touch the bandage that covered his head. ‘My head hurts.’
‘Why did you shoot the Policeman, Filip? What were you thinking?’
‘I thought he had a gun. I thought the girl had betrayed us and that they were armed. Irina gave me the gun, in case anything went wrong.’
Grigor wiped his tears away. ‘What a mess our lives are.’
‘Run, now, or they will catch you, too.’
‘But that is what I want. Then we can be together. Better prison in England than any more time spent doing this terrible work.’ He held Filip’s hand tighter. ‘She’s leaving, Filip. Somehow, Irina is able to escape. I am supposed to take over the business. I cannot do it. I will not do it.’
Filip waved his hand in a small gesture to show that he understood. ‘Our families?’
Grigor shrugged. ‘I don’t know what will happen. Let us see what the British will offer in exchange for our co-operation. Perhaps they will offer them protection, too.’
They had a few more minutes together before the security team broke down the door and arrested an unresisting Grigor.
Nobody noticed the tall, skinny man with the mane of red curls slipping along the corridor, unlaced trainers slapping against the linoleum.
Chapter 31
Date: Wednesday 26th April Time: 12:16 Exeter Police Station
Dan raced up the stairs to the Incident room, leaving Sally to escort the injured Claire Quick at a more sedate pace to an Interview Room. Julie Oliver was waiting in the room with Lizzie, Bill and Sam as Dan burst through the door.
‘Show me,’ he barked as he crossed the floor. Lizzie held up the black shoe, now encased in a clear evidence bag. He stopped and breathed for a second. A breakthrough? Dared he even think it? ‘Where was it?’
‘In Jamie’s hoodie pocket. The one he was wearing on Saturday and Sunday.’
‘Well done, Lizzie, great work.’
‘Sam was there as well.’ Lizzie added generously.
Dan took the evidence bag and waved it at Oliver. ‘Ma’am, do you think we have enough to charge Jamie May with murder?’
She looked at him. ‘Whoa, there, cowboy. We might be able to charge him with being an accessory, because this shoe puts him with Carly at the right time and the right place, but we still don’t know where Carly was killed or how she was transported to the woods at the school, or, indeed, why she was killed.’ She rubbed her forehead. ‘And, we’ve got serious suspicions about Jed Abrams….’ She bit her lip. ‘No, I just don’t think it would stick.
‘Somehow, we have to find a way to get the lad to talk to us before we charge him, because it’ll be hard to change it once we’ve done the formal, and we can’t question him again then until the trial. We’ve got the poor sod on enough as it is to send him away for years.’ She paused for a second. ‘Sixteen years old, and a life ruined. It doesn’t seem right, somehow.
‘Oh, yes. Alan Braithwaite’s car has come up clean, just got the results through now, so he’s in the clear. Forensics are in the girl’s bedroom now. Jed Abrams’ van will be in a car park somewhere in Exeter, or still back at his flat as no one’s had a moment to look for it yet. But I’ll bet you a tenner it will tell us a pile of secrets.’
‘Maybe Jamie can drive,’ put in Sam. ‘Maybe he took his mum’s car and moved Carly’s body himself after killing her.’
Dan acknowledged the input with a purse of his lips. ‘Or maybe we need to be looking more seriously at Miles Westlake as the murder suspect, or at least finger him for providing the means of transportation.’ He paced the patch of threadbare carpet between table and wall and thought aloud. ‘It could have been a shared job between May and Westlake - that would put a huge strain on both of them. And it might explain why May was round at Westlake’s on the day they kidnapped Claire Quick.’ He gave a little shake of the head. However much progress they felt they were making, they were no closer to a confession. ‘Where’s young Adam?’
‘Right behind you, sir.’ Foster pushed his way through the door carrying printouts from Interpol and pinned them to the whiteboard.
‘Right, leave that. I’ve got one Forensics technician over at the hospital taking prints from the Latvian guy. Take a car, go and get him and take him to the Westlake house. Go over Westlake’s car with a fine tooth-comb. If you find any traces of the girl’s presence in the car, Bill will arrange for it to be brought in for further examination. Scoot!’
Foster scooted.
Dan turned back to Oliver. ‘We’ve brought Claire Quick in to give her statement. She’s with Sally in interview Room 3 at the moment. She’s unconvinced about Jamie, and knows him better than we do.’
Oliver looked sceptical. ‘I’m becoming more and more convinced, myself. Whatever happens, we need to persuade him to give up what he knows. I’m prepared to keep him in for another twenty four hours based on the statement from the teacher and the ballet pump before we charge him, but it would be better not to have to.’ She turned to Bill Larcombe. ‘Is the solicitor here?’
‘Yes, Ma’am, she’s been here for half an hour and we’ve just let his mum in, too. So you can go in any time. I’m not having any luck with Latvian speakers, by the way. Currently, I’ve got a Lithuanian speaking Russian specialist from the University who reckons the guy might speak some Russian, but that’s it.’
Dan sighed. It frustrated him to know that something was going on with Jed Abrams and his visitors, and that he wasn’t able to grasp it. But he had to concentrate on one thing at a time. He rose, picked up the evidence bag containing Carly’s shoe, and followed the Superintendent and Sergeant towards the Interview rooms.
Sandra May and Vanessa Redmond, the solicitor, were standing in the corner of the room in conversation when the officers entered. Jamie was slumped as far down as he could get on a plastic chair and had his eyes closed, blocking out
his mother and everyone else in the room.
Dan brought in two more chairs from the corridor and they sat around the scratched and furrowed wooden table. He started the tape, placed the bag on the table and waited in silence until Jamie opened his eyes. As the group identified themselves for the record, Dan kept a close eye on Jamie’s face. The boy stared at the evidence bag, trying to identify the contents. There was no recognition on his face, just curiosity. He was so distracted that he said his name without needing to be prompted by the solicitor.
Vanessa Redmond took out a sleek fountain pen and prepared to make notes on a pale yellow legal pad. Dan watched her eyeing the contents of the evidence bag. He knew that she knew she’d be passing this case onto a barrister in a very short period of time.
Dan started, ‘Jamie, can I ask you again to remind us what you were doing on the evening of Sunday 23rd April?’ Jamie looked at him, but didn’t speak. ‘Because, as you can see, we have found Carly’s missing shoe.’
He studied the boy’s face. Jamie looked down at the floor as he thought about the shoe, but then he shook his head.
‘And we found it in your hoodie pocket. The hoodie you changed out of when you went home yesterday afternoon. The hoodie you were wearing on Sunday when you saw Carly.’
Jamie looked from Hellier to the solicitor. ‘But? What? I dunno… I dunno where it came from. I didn’t know she hadn’t got her shoe on. I didn’t know.’
Sandra May wept once more.
‘Jamie,’ she pleaded, ‘please talk to them. Explain how the shoe ended up in your pocket. Please, love, please. They think you killed her. Tell them that you didn’t kill Carly.’ She reached across the table and grasped his hand, but Jamie shook her off, clasping both hands together between his knees and shaking his head. A moan like a low keening escaped from his lips.
‘It would be in your own interests if you could explain how this shoe came to be in your pocket, Jamie,’ said Dan. ‘Otherwise we can only think that you were involved in Carly’s death. Just tell us what you know. When did you last see Carly? Did you argue? Did you fight about something? Was the whole thing an accident, Jamie? Did Carly die by mistake? Tell us if it was a terrible mistake, we’ll help you.’
Vanessa Redmond was becoming jumpy. ‘Inspector, please could you ask one question at a time and stop harassing my client? Give him time to answer.’ She put her hand on Jamie’s arm and though they all saw him flinch, he let it stay.
A small step forward, thought Dan, he’s accepted that he needs help.
‘Jamie,’ Redmond said, trying to catch his eye, ‘you do not have to answer any questions, but if you can help the Police to find out who did kill your friend, then you should do so. Your mum and I, we believe that you didn’t kill Carly.’
Gathering himself with a breath snorted through his nose, Jamie shouted, ‘I didn’t kill her. I loved her, why would I hurt her? I don’t know how her shoe ended up in my pocket. I stayed at Westlake’s house on Saturday night, and Monday night. I didn’t see Carly after Sunday morning.’
He looked at the floor, and then towards his mother for support. ‘It’s true, Mum, I didn’t kill her, I swear. I swear on Gran’s grave.’ He made eye contact then, scanning the table for a friendly face. ‘Someone must have put the shoe in my pocket, to frame me for the murder.’ His voice rose again and he slammed his hands flat onto the table top, ‘It wasn’t me. I didn’t do it!’ The yell sank away into silence. Jamie slumped back into his chair, swearing under his breath, and shoved his hands into his pockets. ‘No point saying anything. No one believes me anyway. Just makes it worse,’ he muttered, and clamped his eyes shut again.
‘But you do know who did it, don’t you, Jamie?’ Dan said, but the boy had closed down.
Superintendent Oliver stopped the recording at that point and motioned to Dan to follow her from the room.
‘He’s lying,’ she said, keeping her voice low. ‘It’s not looking good for him.’
‘Yeah, true, but Carly could have lost that shoe at any point during the Sunday and he could have picked it up. Maybe he helped Westlake to move her and picked it up then? Or maybe Westlake helped May to move the body after he had killed Carly?’
He shook his head and banged his fist on the wall. ‘I don’t think we can charge him for the murder, Ma’am, even though I really want to. You were right. All our evidence is circumstantial. We still have so many questions.’ He banged the fist again, taking comfort from the pain in his hand.
‘Christ, this is frustrating. We’ve got to get him to talk to us.’
He’d been sure they’d nailed him when he saw the shoe. ‘Jamie said that he didn’t see Carly again after Sunday morning, and neither Jenna nor her father admits they saw him at the house. So where was he? At Westlake’s? Or are we being lied to? By all of them?’
‘All of that’s possible,’ agreed Oliver. ‘Maybe Jamie didn’t kill Carly, but he doesn’t want to tell us about Westlake. He could have helped move her body, though, couldn’t he? It would be a kid thing to do, to think of hiding her at his school, where he felt he knew the territory.’
She bit the skin round the thumb nail on her right hand. ‘We just don’t have enough evidence to charge either the boy or the man with the murder.’
She turned to face the wall and mimed hitting her head against a peeling poster which warned them about the dangers of contaminating evidence.
‘You’d better get back in there. Keep at it. I can’t hold him forever.’
Chapter 32
Date: Wednesday 26th April Time: 12:54 Irina Akis
The room looked just right. In one corner she had set up a small table for refreshments and a pile of cushions for the children to sit on. In the other corner was Abrams’ king size waterbed, covered with a red silk sheet and black lace cushions. The daylight was obscured by heavy curtains, so that the room was lit by lamps. It looked seductive and sensual. She was pleased with the effect. It was much better using Abrams’ parents’ house than the studio, even if it was a way out of the city. She left the door to the en-suite bathroom ajar so that a little more light fell into the room, and opened the old casement window, leaning out to breathe in the soft afternoon air. Spring was here already.
Irina had been determined that her films would be of a better quality than the rubbish usually available, a standard that had repaid her efforts handsomely over the past four years. A standard that would, at last, allow her to get away from her father. He had held her body and soul for thirty-six years, had taken her mother, her brother and would take her child if he could find him. But now, she could pay back all that she owed him and walk away. She would join her son in Sweden and they would have a different, cleaner life.
Irina had shrugged off any guilt about her methods for paying off her debt years ago. No one had cared what her father had done to her when she was a small child. No one had stopped him parading her and finally selling her to his friends. There was no loving mother to spirit her away like she had spirited her own boy out of the country. So why should she care about squalid children in a foreign country? They were well paid. She checked her reflection in the mirror and removed a tiny piece of fluff from her black top.
Turning away, Irina parted the curtains and looked out onto the drive again. She had a nagging feeling that Grigor had not gone shopping at all, but had tried to find Filip in the hospital. Her heart thumped as she considered that he might try to rescue Filip and return him to the house. They could have the whole of the British Police force after them if he did something stupid. She should never have taken on two such close friends to assist her. She knew better than anyone that the ties that bind you to the past are the strongest. Until you break them, that is.
Irina pulled out her phone and tried to call him, but the phone went straight to voicemail.
‘Answer the phone, Grigor,’ she shouted. ‘Don’t you ignore me. Answer the fucking phone!’ Enraged, she threw the phone onto the bed. Nobod
y ignored her. She picked up a china figurine from the window ledge and hurled it to the floor. It bounced on the thick carpet. She screamed at the ornament for not breaking. Screamed at Grigor for caring more about Filip than he did about her. Screamed at her sick bastard of a father. Screamed at her mother for dying instead of saving her. Screamed for herself until the clamour faded to a hoarse whisper and she could lie on the bed, spent and whimpering. She slept for an hour.
Calm after her outburst, Irina rinsed her face and re-applied her make-up in the bathroom, helping herself to Abrams’ mother’s creams. She smoked a joint in the over-stuffed living room. It was all going to be fine. The last job. The last trip. It would be fine.
Grigor would return. He would be too frightened of the consequences to run away. She was not going to take Filip back with them whatever happened. He had to stay and pay the price for being caught, the fool.
Irina checked her watch. Three hours until they would start filming. She had drinks, drugs, and snacks to prepare. She wanted the new ones quiet and compliant.
Chapter 33
Date: Wednesday 26th April Time: 13:09 Exeter Police Station
Grigor Pelakais found himself bundled into a police van, driven at speed to a police station, charged with assault on two police officers and locked into a cell before he was able to explain to anybody that he spoke English and that he needed to speak to the officer in charge about what had happened the night before in the studio. Once he had been allowed to speak, the duty sergeant asked no further questions. He got straight onto Detective Chief Superintendent Oliver and called her downstairs as soon as he could.
Julie Oliver took Sally Ellis into the cell with her to talk to the Latvian. She was experiencing a slight sense of panic that everything seemed to be happening at once. It looked likely that Jamie May might start to talk, and now she might get a real clue as to the killer of Ian Gould. It was odd that the guy had practically asked to be arrested, but stranger things had happened.
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