“That makes it shortly after he rang me,” Calladine said.
“He was shot,” Natasha continued. “A single bullet between the eyes. We found it lodged in his skull.”
“The bullet came from the same gun, a Glock, that killed the two young men,” Roxy said. “So it could have been the same killer.”
“Or Lazarov killed them and whoever shot him took his gun,” Calladine said.
“Unfortunately, we found no prints at the flat where the lads were shot. We’re still on the hunt for DNA that didn’t belong to them, but the killer was careful. He left no hair, no blood, nothing,” Natasha said.
“What about the workshop?” Calladine said.
“Same thing,” Julian said. “The only prints and DNA belonged to Lazarov. The mud with the berry juice came from the land around Gorse House. There were patches on the workshop floor. I’m doing tests. If the composition proves to be the same as in the flat where the lads were shot, it suggests that whoever killed them had been in the vicinity of the house beforehand.”
“I agree, Tom,” Greco said. “It adds weight to the drugs war theory.”
Only inasmuch as whoever killed Lazarov wasn’t happy with what the Bulgarian had been up to. Perhaps he thought Lazarov’s activities compromised his own. For now, Calladine didn’t contradict him, he still needed proof of his alternative theory. Plus, it didn’t solve the problem of how that same mud got into Becca O’Brien’s flat.
“You’re still searching?” he asked Julian.
“Yes, and the minute we get something, you will know.”
That would do for now. Calladine got to his feet. “Thanks. That’s all very useful.” He rolled up Julian’s report and stuffed it in his pocket. “I’ll get back to the station, have a read through this.”
Chapter Forty-five
Calladine returned to his office and gave Julian’s report a once-over. He was looking for evidence to prove Greco’s theory wrong and that this case had nothing to do with drugs, but there was nothing of any help in the report.
His mobile rang and his heart sank when he saw Kitty’s name on the screen. What could he say to her? He liked the woman, he wanted to make up and start again, but what if she was involved somehow? He couldn’t shift the image of the girl in the school uniform.
He wimped out and didn’t pick up the call. Within seconds he got a text: I’m in the car park outside — join me or I’m coming in.
His knees shaking, he peeped out of his office window. Her car was there below. This was stupid. He was a grown man for heaven’s sake. He’d have to face her, tell her of his suspicions.
“I’ve got a visitor,” he said to Ruth. “Kitty wants to see me. She’s waiting in the car park.”
“Need backup?” she teased.
Calladine said nothing. This was no joke. “What you said about Marilyn needing money to pay for her lawyers got me thinking. Would you check it out? I refused to listen to Debra Weller when she tried to explain why Marilyn had got parole, but she did say people had given evidence in court that they witnessed Ray’s behaviour towards her. See if you can find out who they were.”
Ruth shook her head. “It has no bearing on the current case. You sure we can spare the time and resources?”
“Do it for me, please,” he asked. “If I can find a way of getting rid of that woman, I’ll feel tons better. Now to face Kitty.”
He walked across the tarmac and climbed into the car beside her. “Is this important?” he asked. “Only we’ve a lot on.” He’d sounded short, almost angry, and he immediately wanted to apologize. Why could he never get it quite right with this woman?
“You’ve always a lot on, Tom, but yes, it is important. I think it’s about time we introduced a little honesty into this relationship.”
“Suits me.”
“I’ve got a picnic in the boot,” she said. “Well, a couple of sarnies and a flask of coffee. Where d’you suggest we go?”
“Gorse House,” he said.
“You’ll have to direct me, I’ve no idea where that is,” she said.
“You sure? Because I think you might have lived there at one time.”
Kitty turned and looked at him. “We’ll go to the park. The sooner we sort this nonsense the better.”
She drove the short distance to the park in silence. “Want to sit on a bench?”
“We’ll stay in the car. I don’t have long. Just say what’s on your mind.”
“I’ll get the food out first.”
Calladine couldn’t eat anything, he felt sick with nerves. After last night, he was surprised that Kitty was even giving him the time of day. She went to the boot and came back with a pack of sandwiches and the coffee.
“I should have trusted you from the start. The way I’ve gone about things hasn’t done me any favours. That bump I gave your car — it was deliberate.”
He sipped at the coffee. “My colleague was watching, she said as much. Get to the point, Kitty.”
“I did it for the best of reasons. You’re a policeman and I thought I might need your help. It’d be easier if we already had a relationship, knew each other.”
“You’ve been using me.”
“As backup, if I had to, but that was at the beginning. Once I got to know you a bit better, I liked you for yourself. I thought we could have something. You did too, I could tell.”
Calladine looked straight ahead. “I have to get back shortly, so get on with it.”
“You’re right, Tom, I am a fraud, I’m not who I say I am. The restaurant manager thing is a cover.”
Here it was. “So who are you?”
“My name is Kitty Lake, or Katherine Lake in full. I know what you think, I’ve done my research. I can assure you that I am most definitely not the girl you think was murdered twenty-odd years ago come back to wreak some sort of revenge.”
“You look like her and there’s that scar on your face.”
“Coincidence, nothing more. Do the checks, you’ll see I’m telling the truth. Get your people to check out Katherine Lake, born in Cheadle, parents, Anne and Robert.”
Calladine made a mental note to do exactly that once he got back. “Okay, if you’re no restaurant manager, what are you?”
“A private investigator.”
Chapter Forty-six
Calladine wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but it wasn’t that. “I don’t understand. Are you working on something now?”
“Yes. I’m investigating Ronan Sinclair,” she said. “His wife hired the company I work for to find out if he’s having an affair.”
After meeting Sinclair last night, this made sense. He definitely wasn’t who he said he was. “Who d’you work for?”
“Central Investigations in Manchester,” she said. “I’ve been with them five years. “But it’s a slog to be honest and I’ve fancied a change for ages. Since I’ve been in Leesdon, I’ve met a man called Sandy Cole. He’s a PI with an office on the High Street.”
“Yes, I know him.”
“Sandy is retiring, and I’ve made him an offer for the business.” She gave him a coy look. “That’s partly why I made that clumsy move on the Hobfield. You’re police and could be useful in the future. Sandy did mention your name.”
Calladine shook his head. “You deliberately slammed into my car?”
“Well it wasn’t really that bad, I only tapped it, you said as much yourself. I couldn’t think of any other way to meet you.”
“It would have been simpler to come to the nick and introduce yourself.”
“True, but my way was a lot more fun.” She grinned. “And I didn’t want to blow my cover. For all I knew, you could have been best buddies with Ronan.”
“Is Sinclair having an affair?”
“Yes. He’s only been married a matter of months, too, but I’ve finally got the proof I need. I’ve been on his tail for a month now, but finally, this week she turned up. He’s met up with her most days. I’m in the process of putting together
my report for his wife. She asked him for a divorce but he refused point-blank. Told her she’d have to wait until the two years are up. She’s not prepared to do that, wants rid of him so she can get on with her life. She’ll be relieved, my report will give her the evidence she needs, but it’s taken time and cost her a fortune.”
She wasn’t Millie Reed. At once, Calladine felt lighter. What a relief. Kitty’s explanation made sense. “During the time you’ve been watching him, has anything struck you as odd?”
“He’s no museum curator if that’s what you mean,” she said. “His wife said he worked in finance, at some bank in Manchester. I checked, but they’ve never heard of him. I suppose his wife will have to know that, too.”
“Did you find anything to suggest that his name isn’t Sinclair?” Calladine asked.
“No, he’s who he says he is but he’s faked his CV. He’s spent most of his working life behind a bar in various pubs in Manchester, not what he told the interview panel for the museum job. He got that on false credentials, including a bogus degree from a university in London and fake references. I followed one of them up. It turned out to be a friend of his who was lying for him. When we met, he told me he left a museum job in Cheshire six months ago and got the job here in Leesworth shortly after that. Very different from what he told his wife, but it’s all lies.”
“No qualifications to do the job at all?” Calladine asked.
Kitty shook her head. “Just a very good con man. I reckon he’s after the Hoard. If you think about it, it’s the only explanation that makes sense. The pay he gets now is a pittance for the hours he works. He lives in Cheshire, so the job isn’t even local. Plus, he talks of little else.”
Calladine thought that idea a little far-fetched but said nothing. Instead, he leaned across and kissed her. “Thanks. You’ve made an old man very happy.”
“In that case, do I get a reward? Supper later, perhaps?”
Calladine nodded. He’d like nothing better. “You do restaurant manager well,” he said. “I’d never have guessed.”
She winked. “I’m a PI, that’s the whole idea.”
* * *
Calladine returned to the station with a spring in his step, feeling better than he had in days. Sorting things out with Kitty had done him the world of good.
Alice followed him into his office. “Can I have a word? It’s about that matter you asked me to follow up on.”
“The Kitty thing?”
“She appears to be working undercover, sir. She’s not a restaurant manager at all but a private investigator. I spoke to her employers earlier — Central Investigations in Manchester — and they confirmed her identity, sent me a photo and said she was here in Leesworth working on a case. She’s the woman you were having dinner with the night you saw me and Rocco.”
Calladine nodded. “Thanks, Alice. Kitty’s just told me herself, but it’s good to know it has been backed up so solidly. You can go back to looking at Ronan Sinclair now. That is probably not his real name though. He allegedly worked for a bank in Manchester prior to the museum.”
Alice had no sooner disappeared than Ruth came in. “Get it sorted, then?”
“She’s a private investigator on the trail of an adulterer, none other than Ronan Sinclair.”
“I always thought he was shifty. I told Jake as much when he waxed lyrical about the bloke and his plans.”
“I wouldn’t mind knowing more about Sinclair’s plans myself. D’you know what Kitty thinks?”
Ruth grinned. “Taking notice now, are we?”
“She thinks he’s after the Hoard.” He sat back and watched her consider this.
“It’s possible. What d’you think?” she said at last.
“He knows little about local history, not interested I’d say, but he’s in Leesdon for some reason and Kitty reckons the Hoard is the best bet.”
Her eyes widened. “We have no proof of that, and anyway, it’s a wild idea. What’s your lady friend said? Does she have any evidence?”
“Kitty’s after proof of adultery, that’s all. His wife wants divorce without having to wait. Kitty is suspicious because she can’t find any background beyond a few months ago.”
“We should talk to the wife, make it official,” Ruth said. “We can’t allow all that Celtic gold to come here if there’s the remotest chance of it being nicked.”
Chapter Forty-seven
The lunchtime rush was over, but Mother’s Kitchen was still busy. Kitty was back behind the counter serving food and drinks with a young man assisting.
“Have you got time for a word?” Calladine asked. He saw the look she gave Ruth.
“I remember you. You were in here, weren’t you? You sat over there watching me. You had a damn good look and then reported back to this one, am I right?”
“His idea, Kitty, not mine,” Ruth said with a grin. “Gets something stuck in his head and it takes some shifting.”
“This is Ruth, she’s my sergeant and friend,” he said.
“Is he always like this?” Kitty asked.
“Fixated on mad ideas? Oh yes,” Ruth said.
Kitty pointed a finger at Calladine. “I want you here at 8 p.m., no later. Bail and you won’t enjoy the consequences. So, what d’you want now?”
“I wouldn’t mind a look at the information you’ve gathered so far on Ronan Sinclair. If you’re right about the Hoard, it gives us a problem. Knowing who he is involved with might help. And I think I should have a word with his wife. Can I have her address?”
“Give me a minute.” Kitty disappeared upstairs and returned with a folder. “Everything I’ve got so far is in there, including his home address along with some recent photos of him with his woman.” She gave him a warning look. “Don’t lose anything. Copy what you need but I want them back this evening.”
“Thanks, Kitty, we’re very grateful.” They went back to the car.
“She likes you,” Ruth said. “You’ll have to be careful, she’s definitely another one who’s fallen for the Calladine charm.”
“Don’t be stupid. I’m an old man. I’ll be a phase. Young good-looking woman like her, it’ll soon wear off.”
He tossed Ruth the keys. “You drive. I’ll have a look through Kitty’s notes.”
On the way back to the station, Calladine read through what Kitty had discovered about Sinclair. It made interesting reading, but what grabbed his attention the most were the photos.
Sinclair and a woman sitting together on a park bench. Both were smiling, and he had his arm around her. They looked easy in each other’s company, like old friends or lovers. “Well, well. Sinclair’s woman — guess who she is.”
Ruth shrugged. “Wouldn’t know where to start. I see him about, but other than that, I don’t know the man.”
“None other than Marilyn Fallon. That explains why she’d been so keen to stay with me.”
“D’you think Sinclair and Marilyn are planning to steal the Hoard? Should we bring them in?” Ruth said.
“We don’t know that’s what he’s here for yet. He might be an adulterer and ignorant of local history, but those aren’t crimes.”
“Marilyn was married to one of the most notorious villains going. She must have learned something. For all we know she could be the brains behind the whole thing,” Ruth said.
“True, but we need evidence,” Calladine said. “Anyway the Hoard isn’t even here yet.”
“It’s arriving next week. The paper is full of it. There’s to be a special viewing for local worthies and the press a week today,” she said.
Calladine had returned to the notes. “Says here Sinclair visited Marilyn in prison a number of times. When we reach the station, find out how frequent those visits were and when they started. Kitty has only been keeping tabs on him for a month.”
“Are you going to speak to Marilyn?” she asked.
“I’m not sure. I could do with more information first,” he said. “We have to be certain we’re right about the Hoar
d.”
Ruth pulled into the station car park. “D’you intend to tell the others? Greco at least.”
“No, I want to speak to Debra Weller first,” he said. “For now this is between us.”
“Okay, but it’s no use telling folk after the Hoard has walked.”
Ruth left him in his car, still looking at the photos, mostly taken in Leesdon park. He put the papers back in the folder. He wouldn’t say anything to Marilyn for now. Better she was oblivious to the fact that Kitty was on Sinclair’s tail and that he too was interested in him.
When Calladine went into the station, the duty sergeant told him there was a woman waiting to see him. “She’s been here a while now — in there.” He nodded to a side room.
“Does she have a name?” Calladine asked.
“Karen Thornton.”
Chapter Forty-eight
“I believe you’ve been looking for me,” Karen Thornton said.
“How did you know? Did someone tell you?” Calladine said.
“Sarah,” she admitted. “I’m afraid she wasn’t being honest when she told you we’d lost touch. Not her fault, I asked her to keep my whereabouts to herself. I left Leesdon years ago. My mother was thrown out of the flat we lived in, so that was that. She left owing some dangerous people, drug dealers mostly, a lot of money. I was afraid that if people discovered where I was, they’d come looking. I ended up working in a guest house in Whitby, got married and never had any reason to come back here. The only person I did keep in touch with was Sarah, and she told me what had happened.”
“D’you have any ID to prove that?” he said. “I need to be sure that you really are Karen, and this isn’t some ruse you or someone has concocted to confuse the case.”
She rummaged in her bag and took out a passport. “That do you? It’s still valid and has my photo on it.”
Calladine took the document. It was in order. “Thanks for coming in. I wanted to speak to you about something that took place a long time ago up at Gorse House. Jade O’Brien was injured.”
“Not just Jade.” She grimaced. “I got a whack on the head too. That girl Millie was a nutjob, no other way of describing her. She had a vicious temper once she got going. There were three of us and we were hard cases ourselves, but we were no match for the bitch when she went mad with that hammer. She was like a rabid dog that day, chased us down the hill with that damn hammer in her hand. Jade was hurt bad, me not so much. I was lucky, I recovered. I thought no more about it until Sarah rang me.”
DEAD SORRY a totally addictive crime thriller with a huge twist (Calladine & Bayliss Mystery Book 11) Page 17