by Anne Randall
‘Let’s keep that between ourselves and these four walls for the time being.’
‘Oh, of my absolute discretion you can be assured. Presumably when you get the nod you can publicly throw your cap into the ring?’
‘If and when I get the nod.’
‘Come, Gregor, don’t be so modest. I had dinner with Judge Storey last week. He spoke very highly of you.’
‘He’s not the only one involved in the selection committee.’
‘You’re absolutely the best candidate. I’ve known you long enough to be certain of your integrity.’ He paused. ‘Which is why I’m so concerned about this blowing up in our faces at this very sensitive time. I’m afraid that your DI Kat Wheeler is becoming a liability.’
‘Are you making this official?’
‘Absolutely not, there’s no need. Paul Furlan and the other members of the McIver understand the type of investigation she’s running and they are all committed to supporting her. Indeed, no one understands the stress she’s under more than Paul and he’s at pains to be both supportive and sympathetic towards her. They served in the army together and unfortunately, like many of our heroes, they came home bearing the scars of what they’d seen.’
‘I imagine they did.’
‘For good or bad, the army creates a bond, it’s like a family. Maybe a little dysfunctional but there we have it. However, a good friend of DI Wheeler’s, Colin Jenkins, was tragically killed while on duty and she was naturally deeply affected by his death. She felt responsible for him, and his death left her feeling guilty and angry. Her way of dealing with the loss was to hit out at Paul and a number of other army personnel for not supporting Jenkins.’
‘Classic grief and bereavement response – anger.’
‘Absolutely, and of course no one blamed Wheeler, she just needed to take some time out to decompress. But you know what she’s like, she’s extremely driven and didn’t give herself time to adequately deal with it. I believe that she’s now experiencing delayed grief and she’s hitting out again by targeting Paul. I spoke with Eddie Furlan, whom Wheeler insisted on meeting up with, despite his recent bereavement. Eddie believes that she’s obsessed with solving both Karlie’s murder and John Merrick’s murder, so utterly convinced is she that they are connected. My concern is that she believes that somehow the McIver is also complicit. Gregor, it’s dangerously flawed thinking.’
‘You’re suggesting that Wheeler can’t be objective?’
‘I think her meeting up with Paul again has triggered a lot of old resentment and frustration about Colin Jenkins’ death. Paul mentioned that yesterday was the anniversary of Jenkins’ death. Paul also told me that Wheeler and Jenkins were far more than merely colleagues. She’s been through a lot and is in a raw, vulnerable state.’
‘DCI Stewart thinks very highly of her.’
‘I don’t for a moment doubt that, but in this instance she’s too emotionally unstable. Wheeler is churning up old ground, old issues that bear no relation to the case, and, speaking on behalf of the McIver, I would respectfully ask that a stop be put to her behaviour. Not only because of the reputation of the club but also the sensitivity around your career. What you don’t need is a formal complaint being lodged when your imminent promotion should really be the focus.’
‘Do they all agree that Wheeler’s out of control?’
‘She has a vendetta.’
‘All our officers are required to be impartial.’ Gregor paused. ‘But you’re convinced that Wheeler’s impartiality has been compromised in some way?’
‘Completely. All we want to do is to safeguard the force from official complaints while also supporting Wheeler. Also, I have it on good authority that Wheeler is having an affair with a colleague’s husband, one of the family liaison officers working on the Karlie Merrick case, Helen Downie. Again another boundary issue. It seems Wheeler’s ruffling some feathers. I don’t think that she’s in a good space, either emotionally or psychologically.’
‘I’ll have a quiet word with DCI Stewart.’
Ponsensby-Edward smiled, offered a bony hand. ‘Excellent. We all knew that you would be extremely professional and act with integrity. It’s no wonder you’re tipped for a great future. Gregor, you have my support.’
The DCC shook the offered hand. ‘And you mine.’
Ponsensby-Edward paused at the door. ‘She doesn’t know about the earlier discrepancy.’
‘There’s no way she could find out.’
‘Eddie may get cold feet.’
‘Stop worrying.’
‘You weren’t promoted at the time, Gregor. You’ve a lot more to lose now.’ Ponsensby-Edward closed the door gently behind him.
Chapter Forty-Nine
The Boss
The door of the station had barely closed behind her when the desk sergeant spoke. ‘Stewart wants to see you in his office. Immediately.’ He glanced at Ross. ‘Just Wheeler.’
‘Christ, I’m hardly in the door,’ said Wheeler.
The desk sergeant had already returned to his paperwork. ‘Don’t shoot the messenger.’
Wheeler nodded for Ross to go on upstairs. A few minutes later, she stood in front of DCI Stewart’s desk. ‘You wanted to see me?’
‘Take a seat, Wheeler. Tell me, how did you get on at the McIver Club?’
‘We spoke with two employees: Paul Furlan, who is head of security, and Alastair Brodie, who is the club secretary.’
‘Excellent.’
‘It turns out Karlie Merrick was employed there.’
‘Doing what exactly?’
‘Erotic dance. She was employed on a casual basis.’
‘Go on.’
‘She’d done a couple of shifts.’ Wheeler checked her notebook. ‘She arrived around 8 p.m. on Friday 20 June and left at 11 p.m. She returned on Friday 27 June around 9.30 p.m. and left around 11 p.m.’
‘These are the only times she was at the club?’
‘Yes, and they were pretty reticent about how well they’d known her. Brodie implied that casual staff, like the dancers, are secreted in and out by a side entrance.’
‘He actually said “secreted”? Sounds pretty sinister.’
She caught the tone. ‘It was my choice of wording. What Brodie actually said was “ushered”.’
‘Casual staff use a side door? It’s not that unusual.’
‘I think we need to keep a close eye on the place.’
‘Because?’
‘They employed Karlie Merrick.’
‘As did Gary Ashton, although not as a dancer. The work he offered was a little more physical.’
‘I don’t think Ashton’s our man, boss.’
‘What about the Kill Kestrel guy, Josh Alden?’
‘Nothing to specifically link him to her, but the club . . .’
‘I’m waiting.’
‘Gut instinct is that it’s at the heart of the murder.’
‘Evidence?’
‘Nothing at present, but the McIver is connected in some way. I felt the tension in the room when I was talking to Brodie and Furlan.’
‘So I heard.’
‘Paul bloody Furlan called you, didn’t he? Or was it Alastair Brodie?’
‘Neither. It was Gregor McCoy,’ said Stewart.
‘Christ, the Deputy Chief Constable called you because I went to a private members’ club?’
‘I told him that you were doing your job and that I fully support you.’
‘Good.’
‘However, the DCC is also concerned about boundaries and your emotional state.’
‘Why?’
‘An affair with Helen Downie’s husband.’
‘Jamie told me they were separated; they’d spilt for good.’
‘The DCC is well aware of the McIver and its sterling reputation and apparently you took a somewhat adversarial approach to questioning not just Alastair Brodie but especially Paul Furlan.’
‘Rubbish.’
‘The DCC was at pains to remind m
e that Paul Furlan is the son of Detective Inspector Eddie Furlan.’
‘As a retired officer, Eddie Furlan would know that I was doing my job; he’d back me fully.’
‘I’m afraid not. He found the timing of your visit to see him at home somewhat tactless, given that his wife had recently died. The DCC also reminded me that Paul Furlan is an army veteran and that following a distinguished career in the armed forces—’
Wheeler snorted. ‘Listen, boss—’
Stewart held up his hand. ‘No, you listen. Paul Furlan’s an ex-army colleague of yours, whom you seem to have unresolved issues with. He now assists in running a private members’ club. Humour me, Wheeler; can you take a wild guess who some of the other members might be?’
‘Brodie mentioned he’d been at a party for Hugo Ponsensby-Edward at Nicholas Watson-Dunbar’s estate and I saw Mark Ponsensby-Edward at the club too. No doubt they’re all members.’
‘I did warn you to go easy, Wheeler. These people are way above us in the pecking order. We’re talking men who head up our profession. The DCC was playing golf with Judge Storey last week.’
‘Good for them, so now we know that the DCC is a big fan of the McIver.’
‘You can cut the sarcasm, Wheeler, because he is indeed a fan and he’s distinctly unimpressed with your aggressive approach towards the victim’s former colleagues. Paul Furlan and Alastair Brodie worked with Karlie Merrick and must be given time to grieve. As should Eddie Furlan for his wife and Paul for his mum. The DCC also intimated that the club may make a formal complaint. We all want this case solved, but annoying Eddie and Paul Furlan and pissing off Alastair Brodie, to the extent that he complains and Gregor McCoy gets involved, means that we are all now fully aware of your clumsiness. Congratulations, you did all this in a single visit.’
Shit travels downhill fast, thought Wheeler. ‘It’s a murder investigation, boss. I have a right to find out about Karlie’s Merrick’s last known movements.’
‘Of course you do, but not to go in there like the proverbial bull.’ He paused. ‘What are your concrete leads?’
‘None, other than Karlie worked at the club, but I need to find out more about the McIver. Who did she dance for? There’s something sinister about that place, I can feel it.’
‘Feelings, Wheeler? Good police work is based on concrete evidence, not feelings.’
‘I believe that there is something sinister about the place.’
‘Perhaps you need to take a step back and reassess the situation?’
Wheeler leant on the desk. ‘I disagree, boss, I think that—’
‘You’re not listening, Wheeler. You need to let whatever it is you have against the club go. I know you’re not a fan of the all-male preserve, but it’s a reality and you not liking it isn’t going to change it.’
‘I think it’s bloody sinister that you were even contacted; that right there is a problem for me. And the whole old boys’ network—’
‘Sinister’s a bit harsh, Wheeler. A casual employee was murdered and you think all roads lead back to the McIver. You and Paul Furlan have had previous. You’re a good detective, but I head up this team and I won’t have you firing off about old grudges which have nothing to do with the here and now. Your job is to find Karlie Merrick’s killer. Got it?’
‘Yes, boss.’ Her headache returned, a familiar shooting pain.
‘In the meantime, since you’ve given me the update, I want you to go home early. You don’t look too well.’
‘I’m fine.’
‘Ross mentioned you’ve been having recurring headaches. Think about getting to the doctor.’
‘Bloody hell, for a headache?’
‘A recurring headache, Wheeler. It could be something that needs checking out.’
Wheeler had to remind herself that Stewart’s wife had died unexpectedly. ‘Fine.’ She fought the urge to slam the door behind her. She would go home and work on the case. As she strode along the corridor, she thought of Paul Furlan and of the bile that rose in her throat when he walked into the room. She detested the man but it wouldn’t stop her working the case. Surely Stewart knew that? But she also knew that Stewart was going for promotion and no doubt her pissing off the DCC wouldn’t go in his favour. And as for bloody Helen Downie . . .
In the CID suite she grabbed her jacket from the back of the chair.
Boyd stood in the doorway. ‘I’m off out to get some coffee and rolls. You want anything, Wheeler?’
‘No, I bloody don’t.’
‘Christ, I’m only asking.’
‘You OK?’ said Ross.
‘Apparently I need a bit of downtime.’
‘Now, in the middle of a case?’
‘Seems like it. And Ross?’
‘Yeah?’
‘Cheers for dropping me in it about the headaches.’ She let the door slam behind her.
Chapter Fifty
The Café
‘You got a picture of this George Bellerose then?’ demanded Jenny McLoughlin.
Angie fished her phone out of her pocket, scrolled down the photographs until she found the best one, held it up to her friend. ‘He’s gorgeous, isn’t he?’
Jenny glanced at the image, saw that he was mid-thirties, had dark eyes and his thick hair was shoulder length. ‘If you like that sort of thing. A big reunion later then?’
‘Yeah, it’ll be great to see him, he’s been busy since he came back from the conference.’
‘What did he get you for your birthday?’
‘I think he brought something back from London.’
‘You still want it to be a ring?’
‘Maybe.’
‘Got a date in mind?’
Angie sighed. ‘No, but this guy’s for keeps.’
‘Never seems to take you out.’
Angie heard the sarcasm. ‘It’s just that he’s very busy with his career.’
‘And you believe him?’
‘Of course.’
‘Damned if I can see any good reason for not taking you on a date.’
‘George says it’s just a matter of timing.’
‘George says a lot, doesn’t he? You lost the power to talk?’
‘Of course not. I’m just telling you what it’s like.’
‘What I’m hearing is someone who’s being dominated. He sounds very fucking controlling if you ask me.’
‘He’s not controlling and I wasn’t asking you.’ Angie opened the dishwasher and stood back to let the whorls of steam rise. ‘Anyway, how are you getting on in your hot pursuit of your policeman?’
Jenny looked through the hatch into the café. ‘Talk of the handsome devil, he’s just come in.’ She smoothed her hair and shot through the door. Angie watched her friend move like a missile towards DC Alexander Boyd. Watched her pretend to clear a table and stop, saw her smile and begin to chat. Watched her laugh and try to hold eye contact. Subtle she was not. Angie began stacking the cups and saucers on the shelf, wondered what would happen if she was to flirt with someone, like Jenny was doing. If she did it in front of George, would it make him appreciate her more?
Jenny was soon back with the policeman’s order. ‘Two takeaway coffees, both with milk, and two fried egg rolls.’ She dropped her voice to a whisper. ‘Who’s the other one for? You think he’s got a girlfriend?’
‘How would I know?’ Angie crossed to the cooker, cracked the eggs into the pan. Felt nausea rise. ‘Here Jenny, can you cook these? I don’t like being around food. Feeling queasy.’
‘Are you kidding me and miss out on five minutes with him out there? You’re on your own, Angie.’ She disappeared through the swing door.
Angie turned back to the pan, swallowed down the acid and began to cook the eggs. She crossed to the hot water urn, grabbed two takeaway cups, put a scoop of coffee into each and filled them, put the cups on the tray, made sure the lids were tight. A customer had scalded herself last week and Maria had been furious with her for not putting the lid on properly. She put the
rolls into paper bags, dumped in two thick napkins and went through.
Jenny was in full flow, practically wriggling with excitement. ‘So, you being police and everything, do you get to investigate all the big cases? I mean that poor soul who was killed up in Sandyhills Road, are you involved with that? Any leads?’
Boyd said nothing.
‘Of course, you can’t say too much about it, can you?’
‘That’s right.’
Angie handed him the coffees. ‘You taking these back to the station?’
‘Yeah, working late.’
Once he’d gone, Jenny turned to her. ‘I think he maybe has a girlfriend.’
‘I’ve seen him a few times with a tall, blonde woman, think they might work together.’
‘That was awful about that dead woman, Karlie Merrick, wasn’t it?’
Despite the heat, a chill came over Angie and she shivered. ‘I’m so glad George’s back, I can’t wait to see him.’
‘And I can’t wait until the lovely policeman comes to his senses and notices me.’
‘I don’t think he could miss the show you gave him.’
Jenny’s face spread into a huge grin. ‘It’s nothing to the show I’d give him in private if I ever get the chance. And at least with me, the guy would have plenty to hold on to, unlike you, skinny. Why isn’t your guy feeding you up?’
‘He does OK.’
‘You’re losing too much.’
‘It’s just the excitement of being in a new relationship, you know how it is.’
‘No, I don’t know. I was a beefy bride the first time around and I’m sure as shit not going to slim down if there’s a second time. If someone wants me skinny, they’re with the wrong woman, they can jog the fuck on.’
‘It’s just that George likes to play games and being slim suits these games.’
‘What sort of games?’
‘Role play, a little bit kinky.’
‘As long as you’re into it?’ said Jenny.
‘I’m trying to get into it. I said I’d put on some fetish gear later, but—’
‘But what?’
‘It doesn’t matter. George says I’m just being a prude.’
‘George says a whole lot. If you don’t want to do it, don’t be talked into it.’