Deadly Reprisal (Detective Zoe Finch Book 5)

by Rachel McLean

“What of?” asked Rhodri.

  Zoe shrugged. “Jenson maybe?”

  “Poor girl,” repeated Connie.

  “Maybe she knows something about Laurence’s murder, more like,” said Rhodri.

  “OK,” said Zoe. “We need to track Kayla down. And we need to find out how widely known Becca’s rape allegations were. The warden says she didn’t tell anyone but she seems to think that would make no difference.”

  “Jenson swore blind he kept it under wraps,” said Mo. “But he also reckoned the whole building knew about it.”

  “He have an idea how?”

  “Gossip. Bush telegraph. Two hundred students living in one building, something like that’s bound to get out.”

  “So we can assume it was common knowledge,” Zoe said. “Which means someone might have wanted to take revenge.”

  “A vigilante?” Rhodri asked.

  She shook her head. “What if he assaulted more than one woman? If there was another student who’d gone through the same thing but not reported it, I can imagine she’d have been pretty pissed off.”

  “Understatement of the century,” said Connie.

  “Which takes us back to the DNA sample. I’ll have a word with the DCI, see if we can get screening samples taken from the students.”

  “The DNA was from a man,” Mo said.

  Zoe rapped the desk with her knuckles. “Of course it was. So we’re not looking for a potential victim of Laurence’s.”

  “It could have nothing to do with the rape,” said Connie.

  “Alleged rape,” said Rhodri. “The boss says they didn’t have enough to find him guilty.”

  “It wasn’t exactly a professionally-run police investigation, Rhod,” Zoe pointed out. “Even if he didn’t rape Becca, if everyone thought he did, it amounts to the same thing.”

  “OK,” said Mo. “So where does that leave us?”

  “I’ll talk to the DCI. Mo, can you go back to Adi. See if there’s anything else he can tell us from the DNA sample, anything that might narrow it down.”

  “Sure.”

  She nodded. She’d slept badly the night before, the conversation with Carl spinning in her mind. “Hang on.”

  “What?” Mo looked worried.

  “I need you in another interview with me.” She checked her watch. “Eleven o’clock. Adam Fulmer. One of Trevor Hamm’s lowlifes.”

  “OK. What about?”

  “A witness from the Hotel Belvista heard him talking to the New Street bomber.”

  “That’s promising,” Rhodri said.

  “Let’s hope so,” Zoe replied. “You call Adi, will you? You were the one he spoke to yesterday.”

  “Will do, boss.” Rhodri grabbed his phone.

  “Good. Connie, I want you at the university. Talk to Kayla first. Then find out who Becca’s friends were. Chat to them, find out what people were saying about Laurence. There might be something we’re not aware of.”

  Connie stood up. “Now, boss?”

  “Yes, now.” Zoe turned to Mo. “Come on then.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Adam Fulmer had thinning red-blonde hair and a face that looked like it had been in a fight or two. His nose was crooked and the faint trace of a scar ran across his chin. He sat in the interview room chair, his arms folded across his chest, his solicitor beside him.

  Zoe shared a look with Mo as she recognised the solicitor: Edward Startshaw.

  “Adam,” she said. “Thank you for coming to see us.”

  “Didn’t have much choice,” he muttered.

  “I’ve been told you’re questioning my client as a witness in the New Street bombing enquiry,” Startshaw said. “Which means you won’t be attempting to pin anything on him, I trust.”

  “We wouldn’t pin anything on anybody, Mr Startshaw. We might accuse suspects of committing crimes, but that’s a very different thing, and in this case, it rather depends on what your client may or may not have done,” Zoe told him with an insincere smile.

  Fulmer tapped Startshaw on the arm and leaned towards him. Startshaw nodded and muttered in his ear.

  Zoe sat down, piling files in front of her. Half of them were full of blank sheets of paper but the two men opposite her didn’t need to know that.

  Mo switched on the tape.

  “In attendance, DI Zoe Finch,” Zoe said.

  “DS Mohammed Uddin,” Mo added.

  “Edward Startshaw and my client Adam Fulmer,” Startshaw said with a sniff.

  Zoe eyed Fulmer. “Good. Now we all know who everyone is, let’s get down to business, shall we?”

  Fulmer returned her gaze but didn’t adjust his expression.

  Zoe nodded at Mo, who brought a photo out from his own thick file. He pushed it across the table, narrating his actions for the benefit of the recording.

  “Do you know this woman?” Zoe asked.

  Fuller glanced at the photo and shrugged. It was the selfie that the bomber had sent to Ana-Maria on her way to New Street Station.

  Zoe sighed. “She was living at the brothel in Curton Road. We have a witness saying you knew her.”

  Adam’s eyes hardened but he said nothing.

  Zoe leaned forwards and placed her hands on the table. He glanced down at them, then looked back up at her.

  “OK,” she said. “Let’s get this clear. We’re after someone bigger than you, and you know it.” She jabbed the photo. “We also need to know the identity of this woman.”

  He pursed his lips.

  “Our witness knew her,” Mo said.

  “Good for ’er,” Adam replied, his eyes still on Zoe.

  “She says she overheard a conversation between the two of you.”

  Fulmer turned to Mo. “Dunno what you’re talking about.”

  Zoe clenched her fists on the table. “If you cooperate, Adam, you know it’ll work in your favour. We can have a word with the CPS about recommended sentencing…”

  “I haven’t been found guilty of anything.”

  “You were photographed driving away from the airport with a van full of women who were being trafficked for prostitution. You were at the house where these women were being held. We have your fingerprints on some of their passports. You don’t need me to tell you you’re not walking away from this.”

  He turned back to her and shrugged.

  Zoe tapped Mo’s file. He brought out another photo: a CCTV still from inside the station. She placed the photos side by side. “Same woman.”

  “This woman detonated the bomb,” Zoe said. “Our witness told us that you said if she took a rucksack to New Street station, her family would be unharmed.”

  “Those birds are all thick. They’d tell you anything.”

  “So you’re admitting you know her?”

  Fulmer blinked once, but otherwise showed no reaction. “Knowin’ someone’s not a crime.”

  “Forcing them to have sex with men for money is. And we have statements from thirteen women saying you and your associates did just that.”

  “Romanian birds. Full of shit.”

  Zoe felt heat rise from her gut. Don’t react.

  “Come on, Adam. Do yourself a favour and help us out here. What’s the name of this woman?” She jabbed the photo of the bomber. “And why did you make her take a bomb to the station? Who put you up to it?”

  Fulmer leaned towards Startshaw, who nodded. He stared at Zoe, unblinking.

  Startshaw cleared his throat. He was in his late sixties, wearing a shabby suit, and the lines on his face gave him the look of someone who should have retired years ago.

  “You’ve told my client that if he cooperates then you’ll take that into account for sentencing.”

  “We can recommend it.”

  “But the questions you’re asking my client require him to incriminate himself.”

  Across the table, Fulmer flashed his eyes at Zoe. She ignored him and looked at the solicitor. “You know that defendants who corporate generally receive—”

&nbs
p; “I don’t know ’er,” Adam said. He pointed at the CCTV still. “Never seen ’er in my life.”

  Zoe sighed. “Very well. If you’re not going to tell us who this woman is, at least tell us where Trevor Hamm is.”

  He laughed.

  “If you give us information that helps us find him, that’ll help your case more than anything.”

  “No comment.”

  Zoe handed the photos back to Mo. “Are you going to tell us anything, Adam?”

  He smiled. “No comment.”

  “You can go back to Winson Green then. I hope you like it there.”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  “Hi Adi, it’s me again.”

  “I’d recognise that accent anywhere. Howya doing, Rhodri?”

  Rhodri felt heat rise up his neck. He didn’t like being teased about being Welsh, even if it was good-natured.

  “I’m after anything else you’ve got on that DNA result. Does it tell us anything more about the suspect, apart from he’s a bloke?”

  “Ah, good thinking. Zoe ask you to call me?”

  Rhodri hesitated. “Yes.”

  “Let me get it up onscreen.”

  Rhodri chewed his biro while he waited, then spat as he bit through the plastic and got a mouthful of ink. He tossed the pen onto the desk. Connie, about to leave the office, turned to him and sniggered.

  “Right,” said Adi. “You’re expecting me to tell you how tall he is, aren’t you? Shoe size, colour of his skin, where he grew up?”

  “Well, maybe not quite…”

  “I’m playing with you, Rhod. DNA isn’t quite as magical as some people think it is. I’m afraid I can’t tell you any of that stuff.”

  “Ah. OK.” Rhodri went to hang up.

  “That stuff’s all in the genes. It’s the trash in between that we use to identify people. The stuff no one knows what it’s there for. But I can tell you his blood type, and that he had size seven shoes.”

  “But you just said…”

  “We found a shoe print on a ring binder we’d removed from the scene. It was fresh, and Laurence was a size nine. Nothing to do with the DNA, sorry.”

  “You said blood type.”

  “A. So not rare, but not the most common. Not much use to us though, seeing as we’ve got the DNA.”

  “Is there anything else that could be helpful? Anything the killer left behind, or touched?”

  “Sorry, Rhodri. We did find a few strands of hair on Laurence’s trousers but they turned out to be dog hairs.”

  “He lives in a hall of residence. How can he have dog hairs on him?”

  “Not difficult, if you’ve been anywhere near someone with a dog. I know I get them on my jeans every time I go to the park, dogs seem to like me. You might want to check it out though.”

  “You know what kind of dog?”

  “Short-haired, brown. Similar colour to Laurence’s hair, which is why we didn’t think much of them at first.”

  “OK.”

  “OK. See ya, Rhodri.”

  “See ya. Thanks.”

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Connie knocked on Kayla’s door. Loud music was playing behind it: Wiz Khalifa. Connie smiled: Zaf’s favourite.

  The door opened and Kayla stared back at her, her face reddening. “Oh.”

  “I don’t think we’ve met.”

  “No.”

  “I’m DC Connie Williams. I just wanted to have a chat with you, if that’s OK? We can do it here.”

  Kayla scratched her nose. “OK.” She turned back into the room. “Sorry Fi.”

  “That’s OK. Come over later, yeah?” A tall, willowy girl with waist-length mousy hair wriggled past Kayla, giving her a squeeze on the shoulder as she went. She eyed Connie but said nothing. Connie gave her a tight smile.

  “What d’you need?” Kayla said as she turned the music down. Connie closed the door and took a seat by the desk. Kayla sat on the bed.

  “How are you?”

  “Jeez, why does everyone keep asking me that? I’m fine.” Kayla folded her arms.

  “Sorry. It must be irritating for you. Does everyone know it was you and Lin who found Laurence?”

  “Course they do. Everyone knows everything around here.” Kayla stiffened for a moment then blew out a long, controlled breath.

  “Like everyone knew about Becca?”

  Kayla’s eyes widened. “What about her?”

  Connie surveyed the younger woman. What she knew about Becca was confidential, but she was sure Kayla already knew.

  “I can’t tell you. But if you know anything about her, I’d be grateful if you’d tell me.”

  Kayla’s shoulders dropped. “She said Laurence… she said he attacked her.”

  “What kind of attack?”

  “Rape. She said he raped her.” Kayla licked her lips. She’d paled.

  “Are you friends with Becca? Do you know her?”

  “I know her. Spoke to her once in Fresher’s Week, she was at Jenson’s coffee morning. But I’m not friends with her, no.”

  “So how did you find out about her alleging Laurence raped her?”

  Kayla shrugged. “Same way you find out about everything round here. You just do.”

  “You can’t remember who told you?”

  Kayla shook her head.

  “It wasn’t Jenson?”

  Kayla blushed. “It definitely wasn’t Jenson. I know that he knew, cos of the investigation and that. But I’d remember if he told me.”

  “But you can’t remember who did tell you.”

  “I can’t see why it’s relevant. I mean, everyone knew.” Kayla started clicking a pen against her teeth. “You think someone killed him cos of what he did to Becca. Or that Becca did.”

  “We don’t think anything right now.”

  “You must think something.” Becca lowered the pen. “Who else have you spoken to?”

  “Just Becca, Jenson and Lin. I’m going to speak to Lin again next.”

  Kayla nodded. “It definitely wasn’t Lin who told me. I remember that, cos normally I get all my gossip from her.”

  “So she didn’t know about Becca and Laurence?”

  “Oh, she knew alright. She made a video about it. Still hasn’t uploaded it, God knows why. It’d go viral. But she just didn’t tell me.”

  “Any idea why?”

  “You’re probably better off asking her that.”

  “I will.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Another question, Kayla. How well did you know Laurence?”

  Kayla stiffened. “Not well. He wasn’t exactly sociable.”

  “So you didn’t meet him at this coffee morning, or anything else.”

  Becca held her body very still. “I didn’t know him. I mean, he was doing Chemistry and I’m doing English. He lived two floors away. So…”

  Connie nodded. She watched the young woman’s body language, her senses tingling.

  “Thanks, Kayla. I’m glad I managed to catch up with you.”

  “Yeah.”

  “My colleague tried to talk to you last night, but you were out.”

  A shrug. “I went to Lin’s.”

  “Despite the fact you’d told DS Uddin you’d be in your room.”

  Kayla looked up at Connie. “I bumped into her. We went to her room.”

  “You weren’t avoiding DS Uddin?”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “You tell me.”

  Kayla stared back at her, her mouth a thin line. She shook her head. “No reason. I wasn’t avoiding him.”

  “OK. Here’s my card. If you think of anything else, if there’s anyone who might have had a reason to hurt Laurence, can you call me?”

  “I’ve already got your boss’s number.”

  “Well, now you’ve got mine too.”

  “Yeah.” Kayla let the card fall to the bed.

  Connie stood up. “I’m off to find Lin. You know if she’s around?”

  “She’s a medic. She’ll be
at lectures.”

  “She come back for lunch?”

  “Sometimes. Depends what they’re doing.”

  “OK. Maybe I’ll go over to the medical department.”

  “School of Medicine.”

  “Sorry?”

  “That’s what they call it. Lin’s very particular about it.”

  Connie smiled at the young woman, who seemed to have released some of her tension. “OK. I’ll go to the School of Medicine. You look after yourself, Kayla. And call me, if you think of anything.”

  Chapter Forty

  Zoe walked into the team room, her head full of everything Adam Fulmer had refused to tell her. He’d admitted to knowing Ana-Maria, and the forensics made it clear he was at the hotel where she’d been kept with the other women. If he’d handled her passport, a good lawyer would use that to prove he at least knew about the trafficking.

  But the bomb was the important thing. A police officer had been killed, and civilians injured. The bomber herself had died. If Adam had coerced the woman into doing that, he’d be looking at a solicitation of murder charge. If he was prepared to tell them he’d been told to do it by Hamm, there might be the option to reduce that to voluntary manslaughter.

  But she knew how these things worked. Trevor Hamm would have routes into the prison system. Adam Fulmer wouldn’t be safe there, and he knew it as well as Zoe did. His only credible option was witness protection, and that didn’t come easy.

  She needed to talk to Lesley, and to Sheila. And she still hadn’t asked Lesley about getting DNA samples from the male students.

  She put her hand on the doorknob, ready to leave. Connie was out conducting interviews. Rhodri was alone at his desk, frowning at the screen.

  “Rhodri, I’m going to see the DCI. You OK here?”

  “Yeah. Boss, I spoke to Adi.”

  “OK.” She took her hand off the door. “Anything useful?”

  “The DNA can’t tell us any more about the suspect, something to do with it not being the genes they use. But they did find a footprint and some dog hairs.”

  “Footprint?”

  “Size seven. Laurence was a nine.”

  “They think it’s from the time of the murder?”