The Lies They Told

by Jay Nadal

  Karen stood and came around from behind her desk in readiness to check on Finch. “I heard from the duty sergeant we had further firearms incidents last night. Shots were fired in several locations in Shoreditch.”

  Skelton nodded. “Yeah, I heard. It kept the firearms boys busy. Give me an update once you’ve spoken to Finch. I need to head out for a meeting.” He smiled. “I understand that the Brennan woman had a daughter living with her? Any sign of her?”

  “No. Her stuff is there, but there was no sign of her. Brad couldn’t get anything out of the mum regarding her daughter’s whereabouts. So she’s unaccounted for.”

  “Probably dossing elsewhere, a mate’s maybe?”

  “Maybe, but she’s also vulnerable considering her home life. I’ve alerted officers to keep an eye out for her in case she returns.”

  Skelton had a thumping headache. They had instructed him to make himself visible in public places. He’d headed to a bar in Moorgate where he had chatted to those who served him from behind the bar. He’d made sure he was in full view of the CCTV inside the bar, especially when he’d started to chat to a few women who were on a night out. Skelton had then made his way to a casino for a few hours before picking up a takeaway from the fried chicken shop on his way home. In every location, he’d made sure he glanced towards the CCTV cameras.

  As she breezed down the corridor, a notepad and case file in one hand, and a mug of coffee in the other, Karen confirmed she would call him as soon as she had any significant updates. Her mind buzzed with all the things that she wanted to quiz Finch about. She wanted to check her theory that Finch may have killed Taylor in revenge. But another thought bothered her. She could see why Finch may have killed Taylor, but that didn’t explain the connection to Macholl’s murder, if there was one.

  Jade waited outside the interview room as Karen approached.

  “How is our guest?” Karen asked.

  “Sounds like shit and looks like shit. He’s tetchy.” Jade smirked.

  “Perfect. Has he got legal representation?”

  Jade nodded. “Duty solicitor. Marc Jacobs.”

  Karen knew the name. He was one of several duty solicitors they contacted when a suspect didn’t have their own solicitor. Jacobs was a quiet man. But his demeanour was misleading as she had known Jacobs to turn in an instant as he challenged officer’s questions. Karen opened the door and strode into the room, chest puffed out, shoulders back. It was an act, a battle of wills and bravado. To control the interview, Karen needed to show a commanding presence from the moment she walked into the room. With the pleasantries done and the formal caution stated for the benefit of the recorder, Karen took a few moments to glance at Finch.

  Finch had a round chubby face and a heavy, stubbly beard. He had short, dark brown hair with matching dark brown and bloodshot eyes. From this distance Karen smelt his putrid breath that reeked of alcohol and tobacco. He sat in a white paper suit that rustled each time he moved. He had his hands on the table, his fingers interlocked. Finch looked thoroughly bored and wasted.

  Karen smiled again at Jacobs, thinking he looked intellectual. He had glasses, they were round frames very much in the style of Harry Potter’s, and dark, curly hair. Though his hair was shorter, he reminded Karen of Leo Sayer, a singer from the eighties.

  “Darren Finch, how did you come to be in possession of a gun we found in your wardrobe?” Karen asked, sliding across the table a picture taken of the sports bag and handgun.

  Finch looked across to the duty solicitor and then turned and smiled. “No comment.”

  “Who supplied you with the gun?”

  “No comment.”

  Most suspects she interviewed gave the typical standard reply. Remaining silent and offering nothing more than a “no comment” reduced their risk of accidentally saying something that would incriminate them.

  Karen switched direction, her eyes locked on him. “It must have been embarrassing when Taylor gave you a good kicking in front of your mates? Knocked you down a peg or two? Made you feel like a little man?”

  Finch’s eyes flickered and twitched, as the muscles in his cheeks flexed.

  Karen knew she’d hit a raw nerve. “Is that why you put a bullet through his head?”

  “No comment.”

  “I think you were so humiliated, especially on your own patch, that you had no alternative but to settle a score with him. What do you think, Finch?”

  Finch remained silent, his eyes locked in a battle of aggression with hers. His fingers clenched, his knuckles turning white.

  Karen turned towards Jade. “You see, sergeant, once forensics have confirmed gunshot residue on his clothing, and all the other evidence is presented to him, he’ll be charged with two murders, and looking at least fifteen years, maybe even longer.”

  Jade nodded. “Possibly even twenty years.”

  Karen looked back towards Finch. “It’s difficult being banged up for so long. Twenty-three hours a day of staring at grey peeling walls, hearing inmates crying, even screaming, and looking over your shoulder constantly. Especially when the other inmates find out you broke the code of silence, honour amongst thieves and all that bullshit, by dropping others into it.”

  Finch slammed his hands on the table. “That’s bullshit. You know that’s lies, and I can have you done for that.” He sneered.

  Karen would never say anything like that anyway, maybe Skelton would. But her remark created the reaction she had hoped for.

  McQueen’s knock on the door interrupted the interview. Karen suspended the interview and excused herself from the room. She was gone less than sixty seconds before she re-entered and took a seat. Jade started the tape recorder again, confirming those present in the room before Karen continued.

  Karen remained silent for a few moments just letting the tension simmer. Finch glanced at Karen for a brief moment before looking away.

  “Darren Finch, you are in a very difficult situation now.”

  Karen’s sombre tone caused Finch to shift in his chair as he glanced back and forth between Karen and Jade.

  “We’ve just had the ballistics report back from the handgun found in your wardrobe. The prints are a match for yours. But I’ve now had it confirmed the handgun was used in the murders of Jack Taylor and Dean Macholl. It was also used to violently assault a manager at a convenience store six days ago.”

  Finch’s temples throbbed as the anger boiled inside him. He clenched his teeth hard and hissed. An eruption brewed inside his body, and sensing it, Jacobs placed a hand on Finch’s arm to placate him.

  “Inspector, just because the weapon was used to murder two people, it doesn’t place my client at either crime scene. He may merely have been holding on to it for someone else, and until you can prove that my client was present, you are merely speculating.”

  Finch threw off Jacobs’s hand. “It wasn’t me. I haven’t shot anyone. I don’t even know who this Dean Macholl fella is.” Finch exploded from his seat and kicked his chair back as he slammed his fist on the table. Karen and Jade recoiled to give themselves enough space to react if he launched himself in their direction. A uniformed officer who was present rushed forward and pushed Finch back in his seat, restraining him till he calmed down.

  “I’m telling you I had nothing to do with either murder. You are way off the mark.”

  Karen pushed some still images across the table that showed the altercation between Finch and Taylor, as well as timed stills of Finch and his gang leaving just before Taylor’s murder and returning not long after.

  “It doesn’t look good, does it?”

  Finch held his hands up and smiled to worm his way out of the situation. “Listen, yeah, you can see from the photographs that me and Taylor had a run-in. I’d been running his drugs, but I got greedy, and skimmed some cash for myself. Taylor found out and came to give me a hiding. He wanted his money back.”

  “So you thought it would be easier to shoot him than pay back what you owed?”

 
Finch shook his head. “Don’t be daft. I might take a few risks, but I wouldn’t go head-to-head with Taylor. Not many would. He’s a nutter.”

  “So maybe you paid someone else to kill Jack?”

  “No. No. No. Taylor gave me a hiding, big deal. He wanted his money back, and the only way for me to do that quickly was to go and rip off the convenience store. That’s where we were heading,” Finch said, poking some photographs with his finger. He carried on to describe the store, the amount of money they’d stolen, a clear description of the manager, and where Finch had hit him.

  The revelation wasn’t something that Karen needed. Even though footage of the bookies had failed to provide detailed descriptions of the assailants, DNA found on the butt of the handgun linked the weapon to the crime.

  For a moment Karen had to consider that Finch could be off the hook.

  37

  Skelton made his way over to the small commercial unit near the Wilson Industrial Estate. It took him a while to find it from the instructions Sally had given him. When he arrived, half a dozen stocky men congregated by the side of three Range Rovers parked in a line. A feeling of intimidation and aggression crackled in the air as they turned to see Skelton pull up and exit his car. The men stiffened, and formed a makeshift line, an impenetrable human barrier that even the England rugby team would have struggled to plough through.

  Due to their shaved heads, stubbly beards, and bulky tops, Skelton felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. They eyed him with suspicion as he walked towards them. If he hoped that they would part to one side to allow him through, he was mistaken as he stopped inches from them. His eyes narrowed as he glanced from one to another, holding his ground. Though his insides twisted with adrenaline, he gritted his teeth unwilling to be intimidated by such a show of force.

  Sally and her brothers emerged from the unit and approached the back of the crowd.

  “I see you brought the ballet squad with you, Sal,” Skelton quipped. He hadn’t shifted his eyes from staring down the men.

  Terry and Steve Connell stepped around from behind their sister and made their way towards Skelton, their hands curled in iron-like fists, ready to mete out their own style of justice.

  Sally smiled. “Boys, now now. No need to get your hands dirty on a nice day like this. He’s just tugging your chain.”

  The Connell brothers paused mid-step, hatred contorting their faces. They puffed their chests out like centurions storming into battle. Terry snarled.

  Despite being outnumbered, Skelton enjoyed baiting the men though he would have been powerless to do anything had they turned on him. Knowing Sally was there afforded him protection. He knew he was treading a fine line, but enjoyed the attention and the thrill. It was the same feeling he had when he gambled, though he hated how we felt afterwards, especially when he lost.

  Sally stepped through the crowd of Neanderthals towards Skelton and planted a kiss on his lips. The Connell brothers bristled with anger as their sister teased them.

  Sally turned and stared at the men behind her. She smirked before she walked straight towards and through them as the group of men parted. She loved taunting them. It was a trait she had inherited from her father who had taunted both his enemies and those who worked for him. And now Sally enjoyed it, too.

  Skelton knew Sally was playing with him, but he was weak… for her.

  “This way, Skelton,” she barked as she made her way towards the unit.

  Skelton followed a few yards behind her as the men hemmed him in. The group made their way to the unit.

  It was a huge unit. One wall was filled with boxes stacked ten foot high. To the right there was a long table, about eight foot long with three boxes on it.

  Sally opened the lid of one box and pulled out a large pile of cash, a combination of twenties and fifties. She fanned through the notes before throwing them in Skelton’s direction. She shot him a cursory look as if money bored her.

  Skelton’s eyes lit up as he caught it.

  “You’ve done well recently, so this is a little bonus for you. There’s five grand there. Don’t spend it all on booze and lap dancers.”

  Skelton should have been pleased, but his heart sank when he realised he would be giving back a fair portion to pay off debts to her brothers.

  Sally reached into the second box and pulled out a small, clear plastic package. It looked like nothing more than a bag of flour. She grabbed a small Stanley knife from the table, and cut a small hole in the bag before emptying some of the contents. Steve Connell pushed his way towards the table. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a twenty-pound note which he rolled into a thin tube-like shape. He placed one end of the makeshift tube against one nostril before leaning forward and placing the other end towards the edge of the white powder.

  With his free hand he pressed down on the other nostril before inhaling some loose powder. He stood up and shook his head before turning to Sally and nodding.

  Sally looked towards Skelton and held her stare for a few seconds. “Well, what you waiting for? Your turn.”

  Skelton offered the smallest of smiles as he stepped forward and took the rolled twenty-pound note from Steve. He glanced at the group, and not wanting to back down from a challenge, he clamped one nostril shut before placing the tube against the other and doing the same.

  Skelton stood and inhaled, his chest rising as he closed his eyes. He waited for that feeling to kick in. It was more pleasant and relaxing than IVing it where you got a BANG! He found that too harsh. When he snorted, he would get a mmmm kind of feeling and a flood of euphoria.

  Sally offered the slightest of sly smiles before she reached into the box and grabbed another identical package and tossed it in Skelton’s direction. “Use it, sell it, or stick it up your arse, whatever grabs your fancy. My gift to you.”

  Skelton knew it was a gift but another way to keep him tied to their organisation.

  “Thanks.”

  Sally reached into the third box. It was much smaller, but bristling with over a dozen handguns. Sally grabbed the first one that came to hand and examined it like it was a beautiful piece of fine china. “We’ve got a problem.”

  The air turned thick with tension as doubt swept across Skelton’s mind.

  “Heath. She’s a liability. She’s been asking more questions again. It’s come to our attention she paid Two-tone Charlie a visit looking for names.”

  “And did Charlie give her a name?”

  “Yes. He said Adams.”

  “I’ve got her under control.” Skelton tried to pacify her.

  Skelton didn’t see the fist from his peripheral vision as it connected with the side of his head, sending his body crashing to the floor. The hard and cold concrete floor sent shock waves of pain through his body as he landed on his back. His head bounced off the floor with a sickening thud. Dazed and confused, he made out the blurry outline of Terry lurching over him, a fist pulled back close to his shoulder ready to strike Skelton again. Skelton was in trouble. His legs felt like jelly. His head pounded and for a brief moment he thought he was going to throw up or shit himself.

  The sound of Sally’s heels clicking across the floor dazed his senses further as she levelled up close to his head and knelt down.

  “You see, we have a problem. And I don’t like problems. My brothers don’t like problems.” She tapped the muzzle against the side of Skelton’s cheek. “You are close to being a liability. You don’t have her under control, so stop bullshitting me.”

  “I promise; I will sort it,” Skelton replied, his mind dazed, his voice croaky. Skelton had told Heath to back off, and asking her to do it again would raise further suspicion.

  The corner of Sally’s mouth curled up in a wry smile. “Either you do, or we’ll arrange for Detective Inspector Karen Heath to come to an unfortunate end off a bridge over the M25. We’ve done it before to coppers, and we’ll do it again. Understand?”

  Skelton offered the smallest of nods. “And what abou
t Adams and Two-tone Charlie?” Skelton asked, licking his dry lips as the pain intensified inside his head. It felt like someone had hit him with a sledgehammer.

  “We’ll take care of our loose ends. Don’t you worry about that.”

  Skelton understood her meaning and probed no further. As he glanced around, his eyes focused again on the men staring back with dark and blank expressions.

  Sally looked up and down her asset. The dusty concrete floor had left a grey tinge to Skelton’s navy suit. “Now get out of here and get yourself cleaned up, because you look like a sack of shit.”

  38

  Karen paced around her office frustrated with the outcome of the interview. The case was building against Finch, but her gut instinct told her that something was missing. She had spent the last hour reviewing every scrap of evidence, every statement, and crunching through her own theories.

  Forensics had confirmed that Finch’s prints were lifted from a phone belonging to the manager of the convenience store. Making a fatal error, Finch had removed one of his gloves during the raid. The ballistics report had confirmed that the gun retrieved from Finch’s apartment had been used in the murder of Jack Taylor and Dean Macholl, so she could at least get him for possession. And yet something gnawed away in her mind like a termite in wood.

  She could link Finch and Taylor. They were connected in business, and it was plausible that Finch went after Taylor in revenge. But the loose piece of the puzzle was Macholl. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t find a connection between Finch and Macholl. There was no evidence of them working together, being affiliated together, or having a run-in. Was there an angle to this that she was missing?

  The confines of the office stifled her thinking. She needed space to focus and a change of scenery. Karen grabbed her mobile phone and told Jade she was popping out for a few moments, and to call her straightaway if anything important came through.

  Karen slipped out of the office and into the stream of people passing back and forth along the street. She didn’t have any direction in which to walk. She needed to feel normal, but questioned what normal actually meant. Her life had been a whirlwind of ups and downs, pressure, sleepless nights, long hours at work and bucketloads of stress. And because of that, she felt detached from the world around her.