Deadly Reprisal (Detective Zoe Finch Book 5)

by Rachel McLean

  Ana-Maria shook her head. “No. First place.”

  “Curton Road?”

  A nod.

  “We know that Trevor Hamm and his men forced you to provide sexual services to men at the Curton Road house. Did they do that to your friend as well?”

  “Yes. I hear her cry. Crying.” Ana-Maria wiped her face again.

  “Did you hear anything else? Did the men force her to set off the bomb?”

  Ana-Maria narrowed her eyes. She looked at the interpreter, who spoke to her in Romanian. She chewed her lip, staring back at the interpreter in silence. Then she said something in Romanian.

  The interpreter turned to Sheila. “I heard man talking to her. Man called Adam. He tell her if she go to station with rucksack, her family will not be hurt.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Kayla sat at the back of the lecture theatre, slumped in her chair. At the front, Doctor Tanaka was droning on about Jane Austen and Regency England. Kayla loved Austen’s books, but sometimes the level of analysis was just too deep. She wondered if the author had intended to insert all those layers of meaning into the text, or if academics just liked imagining a few of them.

  At last the lecture was over. Kayla yawned and stood abruptly, sending the back of her collapsing chair crashing backwards. A woman next to her gave her a sharp look and she shrugged.

  She shuffled along the row behind the other students. As she reached the exit, she heard her name being called.

  “Kayla?”

  She turned, her stomach dipping. She just wanted to go back to her room and sleep. She’d managed to get that essay finished at 1am, after Jenson had left. He’d been in an odd mood, telling her how to arrange her hair, standing behind her facing a mirror and styling it.

  “Kayla, I wondered if I could have a quick word.”

  It was Dr Tanaka who’d been calling for her. Kayla pushed her shoulders back and approached the front desk.

  “Is it about that essay? I’m sorry it was an hour late, I…”

  “It’s not about the essay, Kayla. Frankly I’m surprised you managed to get it in at all. I’d have understood if you’d felt the need to ask for an extension, you know.”

  Kayla shrugged. It hadn’t occurred to her.

  “How are you?”

  “I’m fine. Tired, after staying up to write that essay. But I’m fine.”

  “You don’t look it.”

  Kayla felt her legs weaken. She looked back at the doctor, wondering just how bad she looked. She couldn’t remember if she’d brushed her hair this morning. Even if she’d cleaned her teeth.

  “I heard about Laurence. That must have been horrible for you.”

  Kayla balled her fist in her thigh. “Oh, that.”

  “Did you know him well?”

  Kayla pulled at her collar. “No. He was a recluse. I don’t think anyone knew him.”

  She wasn’t about to tell this woman the truth. She’d lied to the police and to Lin. How many more times?

  “If you need someone to chat to, my door’s always open.”

  “Thanks.” Kayla looked at the floor between them. “I’ve got my residential tutor, he’s helping.” Although not quite in the way you imagine, she thought.

  “Good. That’s good. Anyway, if you need to talk to another woman. Someone removed from it all…”

  “I will. Thanks.”

  Another lie.

  Dr Tanaka brushed Kayla’s arm with her fingertips as Kayla walked away. Kayla resisted an urge to wipe it, instead waiting until she was outside the lecture theatre before she grabbed her arms and threw herself against a wall, shaking.

  Leave me alone, she thought. Everybody, just leave me alone.

  She caught movement along the corridor and looked up. A woman was walking away from her, turning the corner.

  Kayla frowned. It was that Gina woman, the one who’d approached her in the canteen. She hadn’t seen her in Boulton Hall before, and she’d never spotted her in the English department.

  Was she being followed?

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Zoe knocked on Lesley’s door.

  “Come in.”

  Lesley was alone at her desk, her shoes kicked into a corner. She had a mug of coffee on her desk and a pile of chocolate digestives beside it. Her eyes flicked to the pile when she saw Zoe eyeing them.

  “I haven’t had any breakfast.”

  “I didn’t say anything.”

  “You thought it… oh what the hell. I can eat what I want, can’t I? What d’you need, Zoe?”

  Zoe stood in front of the desk, unaccustomed to Lesley being so brittle. Her boss had always been eccentric in her eating habits. Yoghurts in briefings, Pot Noodles in meetings, chocolate bars stashed in her pockets for emergencies. Why the boss thought Zoe would be worried about a few biscuits, she wasn’t sure.

  “So. How d’you like having DS Uddin back on the team?”

  “I like it very much. He’s a damn good DS.”

  “I don’t need you to tell me that. Good to see the two of you working together again. Just wasn’t right, you with DS Osman.”

  “No, Ma’am.” Zoe hesitated, thinking of her interview with DS Kaur. “I’ve just come from DS Griffin.”

  “I hope that means good news.” Lesley gestured for Zoe to sit down, and leaned back in her chair. She grabbed a biscuit and plunged it in her mouth.

  “Ana-Maria Albescu, one of the women from the brothel in Hall Green, said she knew the woman who set off the bomb. She said she was at the Curton Road brothel. That she heard her crying.”

  “Yes.” Lesley punched the air. “We’re going to get that fucker, you see if we don’t.”

  “It gets better.”

  “Zoe, you might turn into my favourite person if you carry on like this. Tell me more.”

  Zoe smiled. The DCI had been withdrawn since the New Street bomb and it was good to see her cheerful again.

  “She told us she heard Adam Fulmer telling the bomber she had to do it. Her words were – she opened her notebook – ‘if she goes to the station with a rucksack, her family will not be hurt’.”

  “Adam Fulmer?”

  Zoe frowned: the DCI knew who Adam Fulmer was. “One of Trevor Hamm’s lot. He killed Sofia Pichler’s sister, and was at the airport when they smuggled those women off the plane from Romania.”

  “Ah, I remember.” Lesley rubbed her chin. “He was arrested by Organised Crime two weeks ago.”

  “Currently on remand at HMP Birmingham,” Zoe added.

  “Sheila tracked him down, but not Hamm?”

  “Hamm’s clever,” Zoe said. “He’s got people to help him hide. His sidekicks seem to be dispensable.”

  Lesley sighed. “This is useless in court of course, hearsay and all that, but it’s something we can use to give Adam a bit of a grilling. Let’s get him in for an interview, eh?”

  “Sounds like a plan, Ma’am.”

  “You know who you want to do the interview with?”

  “I was thinking DS Uddin, Ma’am.”

  Lesley winked. “Right answer. Although DS Griffin’s bosses won’t be happy.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Zoe walked back into the office to find Mo, Rhodri and Connie gathered around Connie’s desk.

  “I like seeing you lot like that,” she said.

  Rhodri and Connie exchanged nervous glances. “Like what?” Rhodri asked.

  “When the three of you are all at one person’s desk, it means the person whose desk it is has just unearthed something useful. Connie?”

  Connie nodded. “It’s Kayla. She’s going out with Jenson Begg, the postgrad counsellor guy.”

  “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “She lied to us about it, boss,” said Mo. “So did he. Neither of them mentioned it, and both of them were asked about the other.”

  “They’re keeping a secret. I don’t think that means they murdered Laurence Thomms.”

  “There was something abou
t him…” Mo wrinkled his nose and leaned against the desk. Zoe noticed that Jenson Begg’s photo had been added to the board.

  “I know your hunches tend to be pretty accurate, Mo. But for once we might just be dealing with a creep who uses his position of authority to get women into bed.”

  “Nothing new there,” said Connie.

  “Come on, like.” Rhodri looked sheepish. “We’re not all like that.”

  Zoe gave him a smile. “I can’t imagine you ever using your position of authority to get women into bed, Rhodri.”

  He blushed. “Course not.”

  Zoe laughed. “Oh, Rhod.”

  “There’s more to it, though,” said Connie.

  “Go on.” Zoe approached her desk. She had an Instagram profile page open: Jenson Begg. She’d stopped on a photo of him and Kayla.

  “OK.” Zoe leaned in.

  “Yeah,” Rhodri said. “You know what that is.”

  “I do, Rhodri.”

  The photo pictured Jenson with his arm slung around Kayla’s neck in the proprietorial way some young men had. They sat at a restaurant table, remains of Chinese food in front of them. On the table, poking out from under a napkin, was a glass pipe.

  “Kind of pipe they use to smoke crystal meth,” said Rhodri.

  “And a fair few other things,” said Zoe. “You reckon Jenson’s using?”

  “I talked to Adi Hanson,” Rhodri said. “He says there’s no way the stuff that killed Laurence was brewed in the Chemistry lab. Rough as shit, it was. He says it’s street drugs.”

  “Which means we need to find the dealer. Who’s got someone they can talk to in the Drugs team?”

  “Already done it,” Rhodri replied. “He’s putting out some feelers for me now.”

  “You’re having a good day, aren’t you, Rhod?” Zoe said.

  “Jenson could be dealing,” said Mo. “He’s got access to all those students…”

  “Doesn’t necessarily mean he was the one who shoved it down Laurence’s throat,” she said. “But it does mean he’ll know where the students are getting their supply from.”

  Connie gave a long nod. Rhodri winked at her.

  “You haven’t solved the case, you know,” Zoe told him. “We’ve got a creepy postgrad sleeping with undergraduates and taking hard drugs. It might be a coincidence.”

  “Doesn’t hurt to talk to him again,” Mo said.

  “You up for it?” Zoe asked him.

  Mo sighed. “Perk of the job.”

  She gave him a tight smile. “Thanks.”

  “Taking one for the team, as they say.”

  “Don’t,” she said. “It doesn’t suit you, talking like that.”

  Mo widened his eyes. “OK.”

  “So…” Zoe approached the board. “We’ve got street drugs. Cut through with with… Rhodri?”

  “Washing powder. Chalk. And a base of flu tablets.”

  Zoe winced. “Ouch. OK, so we’ve got Jenson, Kayla, and Becca. We’ve got the rape investigation, which sounds like it was mismanaged. And we’ve got Kayla and Jenson seeing each other.”

  The door opened behind her and she span round. “Adi.”

  Adi hurried in, bringing in a gush of cold air. “Hello, favourite Force CID team.”

  “Stop that,” Zoe said. “It won’t get you any of Rhodri’s Hobnobs. What have you got for us?”

  “The DNA results from inside Laurence’s mouth.”

  Zoe felt her breath catch. “And?”

  “There’s more than one pattern. Not just Laurence. Someone left their DNA inside his cheek.”

  “Tell me you’ve got a match.”

  “No such luck.”

  “Gender?”

  “Male.”

  Zoe turned back to the board, her eyes on Jenson’s photo. He knew about Laurence raping Becca. Perhaps he felt protective towards the students in his care. Would he really…?

  “OK,” she said. “We’re going to need to talk to Jenson Begg again.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Kayla leaned back against the wall of Jenson’s room, her head light. She’d had most of a bottle of cheap Lambrusco and felt like she might float away.

  Jenson was on the floor in front of her, rifling through his pockets.

  “Where is the bloody thing?” he muttered.

  “What?”

  “I think I left my phone at the house.”

  “I still don’t understand why you have two places. How do you afford it?”

  “I get this place free in return for the pastoral support work.” He pushed himself up and gave her a firm kiss on the lips. “Meeting the needs of undergraduates. You know the kind of thing.”

  “I hope you don’t meet everyone’s needs the way you do mine.”

  He pulled away. “Don’t be silly.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “You aren’t denying it.”

  He shifted so his eyes were inches in front of hers. “You are the only student I’m fucking.”

  “Good.” She slapped his cheek, just lightly.

  He raised a hand. “Don’t do that.”

  “I was joking.”

  “Just don’t. Alright?” He frowned at her then retreated to the floor, where he continued looking for his phone.

  “You already said you thought you’d left it at the house. Let’s go over there.”

  “Dave and Kal are there. I don’t want to disturb them.”

  “But you need your phone.”

  He grunted. “What’s that t-shirt you’re wearing?”

  She tugged at her top. She’d bought it a charity shop in Selly Oak the week before. “You like it?”

  “It’s too revealing.”

  “I thought you’d appreciate that.” She pulled it up a little. The t-shirt was cropped, exposing her stomach. She’d been cold all day, but now, in his room, she was warm.

  “I don’t like the idea of other men looking at you like that.”

  She laughed. “They can look.” She pulled the top up a little higher so it skimmed her bra. “But they can’t touch.”

  He grabbed her wrist. “You aren’t a piece of meat for men to ogle at.”

  “OK. I won’t wear it.” She grabbed the collar of the t-shirt and yanked it over her head. “Better?”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  She stared at him. She’d been trying to get him to lighten up, maybe turn him on. What was with him?

  There was a knock at the door.

  “Who’s that?” he muttered, his voice rough.

  “You want me to open it?”

  “Put this back on.” He shoved the t-shirt into her hands. “And put this on top.” He grabbed a scrunched up shirt of his own from the floor.

  She curled her lip. “This is filthy.”

  “We don’t know who it is. You need to cover up.”

  She didn’t like him talking to her like this. But he wanted her to himself, not being looked at by other men. It was romantic, she supposed. Flattering.

  He sprang up and opened the door. “Again?”

  “Sorry, but we have a few more questions. Kayla. You’re here too.”

  “It’s gone eight,” Jenson said.

  “Day’s only just beginning for you, I imagine.” The male detective was at the door. “You remember me, Kayla? DS Uddin.”

  She nodded, silent.

  “I wanted to have another chat with Jenson. It would be good to talk to you too, if you don’t mind.”

  She swallowed. “What about?”

  “I’d rather not say right now.”

  “Are you arresting us?”

  “Nothing like that. Just a few questions. We can do it here, but I’ll need to talk to each of you separately.”

  She pushed herself off the bed. “I’ll go to my room. Room 512.”

  The detective nodded. “Thanks. I can call my female colleagues, if you’d prefer.”

  She shrugged.

  “OK,” he said. “I’ll see you shortly.”

&
nbsp; She gave Jenson a last look and left the two of them together, wondering why this police officer wanted to talk to her boyfriend.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  “OK,” said Rhodri. “I’ve got it.”

  “I told you to go home.” Zoe emerged from her office.

  “Just needed to wait for this file.”

  The office was quiet, Mo and Connie both gone for the night. Zoe had assumed Rhodri would follow Connie out – it wasn’t like him to be in when everyone else had left. Maybe he was trying to impress.

  “What is it?” She hid a yawn behind her hand. “Sorry.”

  “CCTV, from the bar where Becca works.”

  “Night of the murder?”

  “Yup.”

  “Let’s see it then.” She dragged up a chair. “Hang on.”

  She went back to her office to fetch the mug of coffee she’d been drinking. It was tepid and bitter but she needed the caffeine.

  “Right,” she said as she plonked back down in the chair. “Fire away.”

  Rhodri gave her a puzzled look, then clicked his mouse. “There she is.”

  The shot was from overhead, showing two young women working behind the student bar.

  “Have we got a time and date stamp?” Zoe asked.

  Rhodri put a finger on the screen. “Sunday night. 10pm.”

  “Let’s go back a bit. Check the whole evening.”

  He rewound the video. The two women moved around the space, heading out into the bar to collect glasses, occasionally joined by a man.

  “Who’s he?” Zoe asked.

  “Manager,” Rhodri said. “Doesn’t seem to do much front of house, too busy stocking up and doing whatever it is you do to run a bar.”

  “I thought you’d know all about that,” Zoe said.

  He pursed his lips and said nothing.

  The video began at 7pm. Rhodri hit fast forward and they watched a woman moving around beneath the camera.

  “That’s the other barmaid,” Rhodri said. “The one I spoke to.”

  “Barmaid? Does anyone say barmaid anymore?”