Death and Deception

by B. A. Steadman

  ‘Mmmm?’ He knew words were probably in there somewhere, if he could just have another couple of days to find them in the mush that had once been his brain.

  As he listened to the duty sergeant speak, Dan sat up and swung his legs off the bed. He ended the call with a request for someone to pick him up. Looking at the livid bruises and swelling round his feet and ankles, he reckoned driving was out of the question for a while. Which was good, as he hadn’t got anything to drive.

  The news that Jamie May had run away did not come as a surprise. He’d known he’d made a mistake in letting the boy go as soon as he’d agreed to it, but he’d pushed the intuition away, and he’d had the same sinking feeling in the gut when he’d had to tell Oliver what he’d done the night before. They had all under-estimated the guile of Jamie May. Sixteen years old, clever enough to pull the wool over all their eyes, and amoral enough to allow a child to take the blame for his own crime. He guessed he might have to resign if they didn’t find the boy soon.

  ‘Great career, so far, Daniel. Great, but short,’ he muttered as he limped towards the bathroom.

  A shave, a shower, two paracetamol followed by two ibuprofen, a mug of coffee and four slices of toast later, he was ready to be picked up. Whether or not he was ready to face the day was a different matter. He’d not been able to get his shoes back onto his swollen feet, and one of them was ripped anyway, so he was in an open-necked shirt, jeans and trainers. Felt liberating, like ‘dress-down Friday’ must feel for normal people. The buzzer rang.

  Sally waited for him at the foot of the stairs. Dan examined her as he descended, clutching the rail. She looked alright if you ignored the bandage round her head. And if her sides were feeling like his, after rolling out of a moving car, then she was covering it well. You never saw this on the telly, he thought. Of course, they were real men, just bounced back, never felt pain, never got bruised... He greeted Sally with a wry smile.

  ‘How you doing?’

  ‘You know, Boss,’ she said squinting up at him, ‘when you made me liaison for the Braithwaites at the start of this op, I was so miffed. I wanted to be part of the main action. Now, chatting to people on a sofa is becoming a very attractive option…’ She grinned. ‘No, I’ll be fine. After all, we’ve caught them, haven’t we?’ Her smile slipped when she saw Dan’s face fall.

  She sat with him in the back of the area car so he could explain the changed situation to her on the brief journey to the station. She nodded and listened and looked relieved. He was grateful that she didn’t say ‘I told you so.’

  Everybody was gathered in the Incident Room by 8.00am. Oliver sat at the head of the table and indicated that Dan should sit to her left. He hobbled to the chair and sank into it, smiling at the sympathetic winces from around the table.

  ‘We’ll keep this short and sweet. We have two members of the Latvian paedophile ring in custody and they are co-operating fully. The third member and alleged leader of the gang was shot down yesterday and is under armed guard in hospital. We will be liaising with the Latvian Police through Interpol concerning her future. Jed Abrams is also in custody and will be prosecuted for his role in this sordid mess.

  ‘We have Jenna Braithwaite in secure accommodation. Yesterday, the girl said that she did not kill her sister, and named Jamie May as the murderer, and he certainly looks a better fit for the murder than she does. She will undergo a formal interview this morning.’

  She glanced down at Hellier.

  ‘Unfortunately we allowed Jamie May to leave the station last night under the care of his mother. He duped his mother into believing he was sleeping in bed, but has disappeared. I have all patrol cars out looking for him.

  ‘Ben,’ she turned to the Sergeant. ‘Drop evidence collection for now and co-ordinate the Uniforms. Sam and Bill, I need you on the phones too, and pinch a couple of people from Unit One, their investigation is nearly wrapped up. Check the bus station, train station, on-ramp for the motorway, and the motorway services. First priority is to catch this boy and bring him in.’

  She caught Adam Foster’s eye. ‘Adam, go back to the school and see if he has any friends where he could be hiding out. Check if any of his friends are absent today.

  ‘Lastly, thanks to Mr Braithwaite, we have re-captured Miles Westlake, who is in a weakened state in hospital. He was apparently mumbling something about Jamie and Jenna, but he collapsed on Braithwaite’s floor. Inspector Hellier and I will go over to the hospital now and take his statement. If Jamie May did confess to Carly’s murder at some point over the weekend, then Miles Westlake is a key witness and must be protected. It may well be that he is still in danger from May.’

  Having finished her summary, Oliver cracked a smile which transformed the sharp planes and angles of her face into something that almost made her pretty.

  ‘We are so very nearly there, folks. You have done a fantastic job so far and we have a two-case puzzle almost solved and put to bed in four days. Must be a record.’

  She indicated the Mind Map on the wall. ‘Look how close we were. We all knew the poor lass had to know her killer, and that jealousy was a motive. We just needed to work out who killed her. And, although I still have an open mind, the fact that Jamie May has scarpered pushes me towards fancying him as the guilty party.’ She took in the assembled team, one at a time.

  ‘Last night was handled cleanly and went as well as we could have hoped. All the children are safe. It was nice to see some of the oldies back on active duty, too!’ She grinned over at the Flowerpot Men. ‘So, focus and get cracking. The sooner we catch Jamie May, the sooner we should be able to wrap this one up. Drinks tomorrow night are on Dan.’

  Dan had the grace to smile, but he was painfully aware that Oliver had stepped in and taken over his investigation properly this time. Couldn’t blame her. The team broke into pairs and began their day’s work, but he just sat there, not sure what his role was going to be for the rest of the investigation.

  ‘Come on, Hopalong,’ Oliver said. ‘Let’s find out what Westlake knows a.s.a.p. and get back here to watch the formal interview with Jenna Braithwaite.’

  ‘Are you going to let her dad in with her?’

  ‘Still your case, Dan. What do you think?’

  Dan felt a little surge of hope. ‘No, I think he should be outside. He can watch, but he’s bound to be an emotional wreck and he would upset everybody. We need Jenna calm and co-operative.’

  ‘Exactly, which is why Sally is leading the interview and we are staying outside.’ She sighed. ‘It’s a difficult one. Jenna did groom those other kids and persuade them to take part. And she did hide Carly’s phone. And she did help to arrange the removal of her body.’

  ‘She also withheld information which could have led to the arrest of Jamie May on the day of the murder.’

  ‘Dear God,’ muttered Oliver, ‘she’s thirteen years old. What kind of future will there be for a messed up kid like that?’

  Jamie had spent an uncomfortable three hours under the dripping tree at the bottom of Jenna’s garden. He’d left his house at 4.30 a.m., carrying only the things he needed in a rucksack. He had been sitting in one place since then. He had tried throwing stones at her window and texting her, but he’d had no response from either tactic. He knew that running away was risky, but he couldn’t think of what else to do. And to run, he needed money. The one person he knew who had money, was Jenna. He’d seen rolls of it in the box on the bed. The one in which she had a picture of her mum and other stupid little things that were precious to her. He’d never keep a picture of his dad in a box under the bed. Might be tempted to keep his dad in one though, if he knew where he was.

  Jamie tossed the back door key in his hand. He’d found it under a stone near the back gate. People are so dumb, he thought. The trouble was he was too scared to enter the house without Jenna. He had a feeling her dad would kill him if he saw him in there again. He didn’t think Jenna was stupid enough to squeal, but her da
d was already suspicious, and coming across him in the house would be pretty bad.

  Jamie decided on the same tactic he had used at his own house. He moved as close to the back door as he could, sank behind an overgrown gooseberry bush and watched for movement.

  Minutes later, Alan Braithwaite rolled into the kitchen, yawning and scratching his stomach. He drank tea and fried bacon and eggs. Jamie could neither hear, taste nor smell the food cooking, but all his senses were as alert as if he was standing next to the man.

  He noticed he was salivating and realised he hadn’t eaten since yesterday. Where was Jenna?

  He really needed that money. London was looking favourite. Kids got lost there all the time. And the roll of cash would give him enough to get a place to live and, with a bit of luck, a job. Although, he could always busk. He thought of his guitar, stuck at Westlake’s house because of that bloody Ninja Policewoman. Maybe, he could pick it up too, if he was quick, then over to the motorway services and hitch a ride.

  Alan Braithwaite finished his breakfast and disappeared from view. Ten minutes later, Jamie saw him open the bathroom window to let out steam. He was tempted to have a go then - just slip in through the back door, into the bedroom and out. Only take a couple of minutes. No, too risky. Braithwaite could come out at any time. Better to wait. He was obviously getting ready to go out somewhere, which would be even better.

  Jamie dumped his rucksack under the shrub and padded over towards the back corner of the house, waiting for the front door to slam. After another interminable wait, it did.

  Braithwaite wasn’t driving his own car, though. He climbed into a small hatchback driven by a woman Jamie had never seen before. It didn’t matter. It was time to move.

  He unlocked the back door and slipped into the kitchen, leaving the door ajar, and ran up the stairs to Jenna’s room. He had her keepsake box on the bed and the money in his pocket when he heard a noise, a key in the lock of the front door. Jamie froze. He heard Braithwaite’s voice in the hall, shouting back to the woman in the car outside.

  ‘A blue folder? Can’t see it. What the..?’ He’d seen the open back door. Jamie stared around him in panic. There was no way out except to force his way past Braithwaite, and he didn’t fancy his chances there.

  He made a dash for Carly’s room as it faced the back of the house. He could jump out of the window and still get away. He was bound to be faster than the old geezer. He got no further than two steps outside the bedroom door when he heard heavy boots pounding up the stairs two at a time.

  Braithwaite leapt at the boy and brought him to his knees, pulling the legs from under him and squatting on his back. Then, as if Jamie were just a plastic kid’s toy, Braithwaite flipped him over and punched him in the head, shouting and screaming his rage and grief at the boy until Jamie stopped trying to fight and lay still, eyes huge in his terrified, bloodied face.

  Pat Davies, the Victim Support worker, organised the police car to pick up Jamie May. She helped Alan Braithwaite to wash his hands and dry his tears, and guided him out of the house and into her little car. He was calmer by the time they reached the station. Whatever the Police or the clever lawyers might say about Jenna, he knew he had caught the killer of his daughter.

  Chapter 39

  Date: Thursday 27th April Time: 08:43 Royal Devon & Exeter Hospital

  Dan felt tricked. Oliver had driven him straight to A & E and made him sit in the queue to have his feet looked at again while she interviewed Westlake on her own. He had to admit, though, that just a short while later he was walking better because the tight bandages supported his feet and ankles, and were helping to reduce the swelling.

  He knew that most officers would be relaxing and having a week off after injuring themselves on a job, but that he just had to be there. It was his first case, and he couldn’t let it go, even if he had made a total bollocks of it.

  And Oliver had understood. That was why she had insisted on him going with her this morning. She knew he wouldn’t argue when she made him get his feet sorted out. They had given him some decent painkillers, too, which were also helping.

  He had a reflective moment when he thought about how his boss back at the Met would have reacted to his gross stupidity, and was suddenly thankful that he had moved home.

  Oliver had put her trust in him twice now, when all the evidence had pointed the other way. As they walked back to the car, he promised himself he would be a better policeman. He would learn from this.

  ‘My interview with Miles Westlake was frustrating and, ultimately, sad,’ she said as they walked back to her car. ‘Jamie May had indeed told Westlake that he had killed Carly. He also added, just to twist the knife, the little shit, that Carly was sickened by Westlake and had decided to tell her father.’

  ‘Nice,’ said Dan, still amazed at his own gullibility but unsurprised that Westlake had fallen for Jamie’s lies..

  ‘That isn’t all. Jamie told him Carly had posted stories about their affair on Facebook, and that she and her friends were laughing at him behind his back. After he heard Westlake and Claire Quick talking, and he had hit her to stop her going to the police, he had completely changed his story and told Westlake that actually, it was Jenna who had killed her sister out of jealousy..’ She shook her head in disbelief. ‘It’s all potential rubbish that any sensible person would have checked out and laughed off, or investigated further. But, of course, Westlake was devastated at Carly’s death and not thinking straight at all.’

  Dan interrupted, ‘Hence the suicide attempt?’

  ‘Yes, and a weird belief that God had spared him to kill Jenna so that then he could join Carly in Heaven. Poor sod’s a basket case. I don’t think he’ll see daylight for some time.’

  ‘Hard to feel sorry for him, though.’

  Oliver looked thoughtful. ‘Hmm, maybe.’

  Her phone rang while she was driving back to the station. She nodded, and made a few ‘Hmms’ and ‘Uh-huhs’.

  Dan was trying to get his own phone out of his jeans pocket when she pulled over into a layby, turned to him and flashed that rare, brilliant smile once again.

  ‘We’ve got Jamie May, Dan. We’ve got him. Well, rather Alan Braithwaite got him trying to nick money from Jenna’s bedroom. Apparently he had hundreds of pounds on him.’

  Dan struggled to process the information for a second, and then he felt the warm glow that, for a day or two, he had thought would never be his again. He smiled back at his boss, ‘Thank Christ for that,’ and he laughed, and banged on the dashboard in a little fanfare.

  Chapter 40

  Date: Thursday 27th April Time: 09:57 Exeter Road Police Station

  Jamie had been put in and left in the same Interview Room he had been in the day before. There was a uniformed cop standing just outside the door. Jamie couldn’t see the point of setting a guard. He was hardly likely to get through a whole police station full of fuzz, without getting caught.

  He felt his nose. It was squashy and there was dried blood inside that was itching. He’d had enough nosebleeds as a kid to know that he mustn’t mess with the clotting, but the temptation was overwhelming, especially as his eyes wouldn’t stop leaking everywhere, and he needed to blow his nose. He took a huge, juddering breath.

  Alone in the stuffy room, Jamie picked away at his feelings for Carly as he picked away at the scab on his arm. He’d had to bury those feelings deep when he took her to the woods, but they rose up now, like the monsters that had haunted his childish dreams. He shuddered to think of Sunday night. A worm of horror writhing through his body set him squirming on the chair. The feel of her. The weight of her. The lolling head. The beautiful black hair dragging in the mud. That disgusting paedo’s hairy hands picking her up, touching her, looking at her with his filthy pervert eyes.

  And he, what did he do? Left her alone with the dead birds in the dirt for anybody to find. Another huge breath juddered out of him.

  He’d had to have it out with
her on Sunday; he hadn’t been able to let it go. Couldn’t let it go after she had shown him up on Saturday night, and thrown his love back in his face like that. It hammered in his brain and wouldn’t give him any peace. Why? Why would she make him feel so small? It wasn’t right to treat him like that. She really was sleeping with Westlake, and that hurt, that really hurt. He’d had to go round and sort it out with her.

  Carly had been in Jenna’s room when he’d arrived. He could hear the shouting from outside the house. Carly had been screaming, ‘What have you done Jenna? Where did the money come from? Oh my God, look at these pictures. He’s a dirty pervert! I knew he was. I’m telling Dad.’

  Going mad at her, saying over and over she had to stop or she would tell her dad. He had run upstairs, but they were going at it, shouting and scratching, like girls do. That’s when he saw all the money lying on the bed. Whose money? Where from? He was staring at the money when Jenna let go of Carly’s arms, and legged it past him, leaving him stupidly staring in the doorway. When he looked up at Carly, she was using the phone. Ringing him. Ringing Westlake. And that was it. The final insult.

  Hit her then, he did. Smacked her head - bang, bang, bang against the door. She made him do it. Making him feel small. Too small for her. Made her drop the fucking phone - no ringing him. Smashed the phone - glass all over. Crackling onto the floor. He could still feel his arm round her throat - squeezing and squeezing. I’m strong now, strong now, Carly. Squeezing and squeezing, kneeling on her back, bending her head back - give in, give in, give in. Bitch! Bitch! Until she had stopped fighting. One slow dragging breath and she just lay there, still.

  He hadn’t meant to kill her. A boy wouldn’t have died so easy.

  He choked back snot, blood and tears and focussed his lost eyes onto the red weal of the scratch on his arm. He bit down where the scratch burned, sucking at the blood. She was in the scratch, taunting him, and he had to rub, to rub, scrub at it until she was gone … until she left him alone … until the pain stopped.