“Sure,” said Connie.
Rhodri pushed through the door. He stubbed his toe on a box Zoe had left out the night before and cursed under his breath.
“Sorry, boss. Didn’t see you there.”
She turned to him. “No worries, Rhod. I should have moved it.”
He gave her a nervous smile. “I should have looked where I was going.”
“Whatever. But since you’re there, can you shift it into the side office?”
“No problem.” He slung his coat over his chair and picked up the box.
The door opened. It was Sergeant Tim Jenner, who was on reception duty. “One for you, Detective Inspector.”
Zoe stood up. She glanced at her watch: 7:45. “It’d better be quick. Who is it?”
“Trevor Hamm.”
She turned to Mo, whose eyes were wide.
“Where’s Randle?” she asked Jenner. “He’s SIO.”
“He’s on a call with the Birmingham Post. Says not to be disturbed.”
“Right then,” she said. “This should be interesting. Mo, come with me, will you?”
“Yes, boss.”
They hurried to the front of the building. There was no one in reception.
“Where is he?” asked Zoe.
“He was right here,” said Jenner.
“He’s done a runner,” said Mo.
“Wait,” said Jenner. “He’s outside.”
A middle-aged man with silver hair and a ruddy tan stood beyond the door smoking a cigarette. Zoe stepped out.
“Trevor Hamm?”
He threw the cigarette to the ground and squished it with his foot. “Who are you?”
“Detective Inspector Zoe Finch.” She put out a hand. “I’d appreciate it if you could pick that cigarette butt up.”
He looked down at the butt then back at her. “Why are you harassing my wife?”
“No one is harassing anyone, Mr Hamm.”
“You snuck into the hospital. You lied to the nurses. You completely freaked her out.”
“I think she was already pretty freaked out. Given that she’d been beaten up.”
“Don’t talk about my wife like that.”
“Let’s go inside, please. I’m sure you don’t want the whole street hearing about your wife’s attack.”
He puffed up his chest. He wasn’t tall, only an inch taller than her, at most. But he was wide. Brick shithouse wide. His leather jacket strained to contain his upper arms and his stomach protruded under his t-shirt. She wondered how Irina felt having to go home to him every night.
“Alright,” he said. “But I want to speak to someone senior.”
“I’m someone senior.”
“Someone in charge.”
“Right now, I’m in charge.”
He screwed his foot into the cigarette butt to underline the fact he wasn’t about to pick it up. He gave Zoe a look of disgust and pushed through the doors into the station. Mo was waiting inside, a question on his face. She shook her head at him.
“Who the fuck are you?” Hamm said. “Are you in charge?”
“I’m DS Mo Uddin. DI Finch is the senior officer here. She can—”
“She can do squat. She and some big-haired black girl came sniffing round my wife yesterday and they’ve caused her irreparable psychological damage.”
Zoe wondered who’d put those words in his head.
“We’re just trying to find out who broke into your flat and attacked your wife. If you come into the interview room, I’d like to ask you a few—”
“Drop it.”
“Sorry?”
“You heard me. I’m not making a complaint. The break-in.”
“What about your wife?”
“That neither. She’ll be right as rain. It’s my flat, in my name. Leave it alone.”
“Mr Hamm, it isn’t as simple as—”
He leaned in. “You can only pursue a case if you’ve got a victim. Well, you ain’t got a victim here. Irina wants you to drop it too.”
Mo stepped forward. “Mr Hamm, I suggest you come into the interview room. We can talk in there.”
“Don’t tell me what to do.” Hamm took a swing at Mo, who pulled back. Hamm tottered as the force of the swing carried through and hit nothing.
“Mr Hamm, I really wouldn’t advise assaulting an officer in the reception area of a police station,” said Zoe. She was almost enjoying herself. “It’s really not wise.”
He turned to her. “You broke the law. You lied to those nurses and you harassed poor Irina.”
“How is she?”
“What do you care how she is?”
Mo was advancing on him. Hamm span round and Mo flinched, falling backwards.
Zoe rushed to grab him but it was too late. He’d lost his balance and crashed into the wall. His head hit it as he went down, making a sound that set Zoe’s teeth on edge.
“Oi! Stop it!” shouted Sergeant Jenner. He clattered out from his post behind the desk as Hamm ran outside, heading down the street.
“Get him!” shouted Jenner. “You have to go after him.”
Zoe bent over Mo. His face was pale.
“Forget about that,” she said. “We know where he lives. Call an ambulance. Quickly.”
Chapter Fifty-Five
In the briefing, Randle was moaning about the press.
“Sir,” Zoe interrupted. “Can we get on with it? I need to go to the hospital.”
“Of course. Any news?”
“Not yet.” She flicked her phone awake and scrolled through messages then emails. Nothing. She should have gone back to the office, got Connie or Rhodri to head over to the hospital. But Lesley had pulled her in here; she was already late.
“Have you found anything on the CCTV from the Hamms?” asked Randle.
“Not yet,” said Zoe. “Connie’s still going over it.”
“What about the interview? Did she remember who it was?”
“No. She doesn’t know if anything was stolen, as she hasn’t been back to the flat. Uniform had a look but couldn’t find anything obvious. If we manage to find her husband at home we can ask him. Not expecting him to cooperate though.”
“Sounds to me like she interrupted them before they could get anything,” said Randle.
“I think there’s more to it than that,” she said. “I had a burglary too last night.”
“You think it’s connected?” asked Lesley. Carl straightened in his seat.
“It could just be a coincidence. But he didn’t take anything. Nicholas’s PC was still there. His iPad. Jewellery, cash.”
“He?”
“I walked in on him, in the kitchen.”
“I’m hoping you’ll tell me he’s in custody,” said Lesley.
“He ran off.”
“Of course he did,” said Lesley. “Give me strength.”
“Someone was waiting for him, in a stolen car,” said Zoe.
“Sounds like they were looking for something.” Lesley turned to Randle. “We need to take this seriously.”
“If we jumped up and down every time someone gets their house broken into, we’d never have time to solve the real crimes,” said Randle. “Zoe, have you reported it?”
“Paperwork’s being completed as we speak, sir.”
“Good. But they’re both red herrings as far as I’m concerned. I want to pursue the money angle on Margaret Jackson. They’re reading her husband’s will tomorrow, it might tell us something about her motive.”
Zoe eyed him. For someone who’d once been in a relationship with the woman, he was very happy to push her out of the balloon.
“David,” said Lesley. “If we really think Margaret Jackson killed her husband, then we need to bring her in again. Push for inconsistencies in her story.”
“We need to build a case,” he said. “Get more evidence. She’s the widow of the Assistant Chief Constable. The Chief Constable will have my balls on a plate if we arrest her and don’t have enough for a conviction.”<
br />
“I’m not saying arrest her, I’m—”
“I want you to find out what happened to that painting. We still haven’t identified it. Maybe she’s hidden it somewhere.”
“Why on earth would she do that?” said Zoe.
“Zoe has a point,” said Carl, his eyes steady on her face. She wanted to swat him away.
“OK,” said Randle. “Leave the Hamm break-in. Mr Hamm has said he doesn’t want to pursue it.”
“After assaulting a police officer,” said Carl.
Randle shook his head. “From what I’ve heard, it didn’t go down quite like that.”
“No,” said Zoe. “He was threatening, but he didn’t actually assault Mo.”
“Right,” said Randle. He was holding his phone, scrolling through it. “He says drop it, so we have no choice.”
“It’s not up to him,” said Zoe. “Irina was assaulted.”
“I know. But she doesn’t speak good English, and it was his flat that was broken into.”
“Her English was excellent.”
“He says not.”
“He’s wrong.”
“When you spoke to her,” he said. “Did she remember anything?”
“No.”
“Well then. It’s a dead end. Forget it.”
“I think you’re wrong,” said Lesley. “Simon Adams had that painting and he was working for Hamm, then Hamm’s flat gets broken into and his wife beaten up. We should follow that up.”
“We don’t know it was the same painting,” said Randle.
“Mrs Jackson still can’t identify it?” asked Carl.
“No. Lesley, I want you to talk to Paul Jackson. See if his memory’s coming back, now he’s had a bit more time.”
“Fair enough,” said Lesley. “But I still think we should be—”
“I said no. I’m the SIO and I want you to follow the lines of enquiry I ask you to.”
“Can’t we do both?” asked Carl.
“I beg your pardon?” said Randle.
“Lesley and you follow up on the Jacksons. Zoe and I can look into the Hamm connection.”
David narrowed his eyes. “Are you giving me orders, Inspector?”
Carl raised his hands in a gesture of innocence. “No, sir. Just making a suggestion.”
“Don’t try to undermine me.”
“I just want to find out how Bryn Jackson died,” said Carl. He held the DCI’s gaze, his eyes bright.
“Assistant Chief Constable Jackson to you.” Randle turned to Zoe. “Stop wasting your time with CCTV. Talk to Adams. See if you can get anything more from him.”
“Right, boss.” Zoe eyed Lesley, who was sitting very still.
Chapter Fifty-Six
Mo was sitting on a trolley in A&E. His wife Catriona was leaning over him, prodding the back of his head gently.
He batted her away. “Don’t fuss, please. I’m fine.”
“You’re concussed.”
“I wouldn’t be talking to you if I was concussed.”
“OK. You were concussed. Sergeant Jenner told me you blacked out.”
“Did I? I don’t remember that.”
“That’s sort of the point.”
“Er, hello.” Zoe lifted herself onto tiptoes behind Catriona to get a better look at her friend. His skin had lost the pallor and he looked tired more than anything.
“Zo.” His face brightened. “What happened to Hamm?”
“Don’t you worry about that.”
“Tell me you’ve caught him.”
She blushed. “I don’t know.” That was a lie. Uniform had been looking for his car but with no luck. And Randle had told her not to send officers to his flat.
“I should have known he was bad news,” said Mo. “I was a moron.”
“You were trying to calm him down. That’s not moronic.”
“Maybe.”
“Did you see the assault?” asked Catriona. She was shorter than Zoe with wispy pale hair and high red circles on her cheeks. She was an experienced GP but today she didn’t look more than sixteen years old.
“I did. It was a frenzied attack committed by a wall.”
Mo screwed up his face. “Oi.”
“Sorry.” Zoe turned to Catriona. “A man came to the station, in connection with a case we’re investigating. Mo was trying to calm him down. The man startled Mo. He fell backwards into the wall. Hit his head.”
“So he wasn’t assaulted?”
“The guy was pretty nasty, but you couldn’t actually say he assaulted Mo, no. It was all a bit of a mess.”
“You can say that again.” Catriona looked along the corridor. “When are they going to take him to a room?”
“I’m alright, love,” Mo said. “I want to go back to work.”
“You’re doing nothing of the sort. You were unconscious for ten seconds. Maybe more. You’re going to be observed.”
“Can’t I go home, and you can observe me?”
“What, with a nine-year-old and a six-year-old running around the place? No. You’re safer here.”
“I still think it’s a load of fuss over nothing. Zo, put in a word for me, will you?”
“Sorry, Mo. I want you back at work as much as anyone, but I also want you well.”
“You’re no help. Catriona, go and hassle a doctor or something. You’re good at that.”
Catriona looked between Mo and Zoe then shook her head and walked off.
“Thank God for that,” said Mo. “Never marry a doctor.”
“She’s just looking out for you.”
“I’ll be fine. But you aren’t.”
“What d’you mean?”
“I heard you had a break-in.”
“How?” She hadn’t told anyone outside the briefing.
“Amanda on the phones. She had a call from someone called Ollie, first thing.”
“The kid next door. Blimey.”
“Yeah. Those students look up to you. You’re like the mother hen of the street, or something.”
“I’m the least mother hen-like person I know.”
“That’s not what they think. Are you OK? How about Nicholas?”
“We’re fine. Nicholas is a bit shaken up. He got home just as the guy was doing a runner.”
Mo’s eyes widened. “You caught him?”
“He got away. There was a car waiting for him. A stolen car.”
“Typical. You think it’s related to the case?”
“It might be. They didn’t take anything. I think they were looking for evidence.”
“Good job you don’t take anything home.” He gave her a meaningful look.
“Yeah, well I won’t do that again.”
“Be careful, Zo.” Her hand was resting on the side of the trolley. He placed his hand over it.
“I’m not the one in hospital.”
“I’ll be out in a flash. You’ll see.”
Chapter Fifty-Seven
“I’ve found something.”
“Huh?” Zoe slung her bag onto her desk and sank down in her chair. She rubbed her eyes.
“On the CCTV,” said Connie. Two men, outside the Hamm flat.”
Zoe pushed herself up and went to Connie’s desk. “Let’s see.”
Connie pushed her mouse around. The screen blurred for a few moments, then stopped moving. She hit Play.
Zoe watched two men open the door to the building where the Hamms lived. It was a modern block on the canals, not far from the convention centre.
“Can you get it any clearer?”
Connie paused the recording and zoomed in. “Hang on.”
She clicked a mouse button. Then she opened another program and a still of the video appeared. She moved her mouse around again and the picture started to brighten.
“Can’t do much more than that, I’m afraid. Contrast and exposure are up.”
“You can’t do something with the pixels?”
“You’ve been watching too many American cop shows, boss.”
> “Believe me, I haven’t.” Zoe leaned in. One of the men wore a hoodie with the hood up. His face was dark beneath. Maybe he was black, maybe just shaded. The other man wore a baseball cap, but there was a mark underneath its edge, on his ear.
“Can you zoom in? On the one without a hood.”
Connie pinched her fingers on the mouse. The man became larger but less clear. There was definitely something around his ear.
“You think that’s a tattoo?” asked Zoe.
Connie cocked her head. “Let’s go back to the original.”
She opened the video up again and started playing it.
“Slow it down.”
The speed slowed, the men moving like moonwalkers. The one in the cap turned and scratched his head.
“Stop it there,” said Zoe. “Do whatever it is you did again.”
Connie brought up a still of that shot. She adjusted it. The man had his fingers up beneath his cap, pushing it upwards.
“Connie, what do you think that’s a tattoo of?”
“I can’t be sure it’s a tattoo really.”
“Yeah. But if it was, what would you say it was?”
Connie leaned in. “I’d say it was a bird.”
“Good. Me too.”
“You think that’s Adams?”
“I reckon.”
Rhodri pushed his chair towards them. “He’s gone, boss.”
“What?”
“Adams. They bailed him. Magistrates Court, this morning.”
“Shit. What were the conditions?”
“Dunno, boss.”
“Find out.”
“Right.” He wheeled back to his desk and picked up the phone.
Zoe logged into HOLMES and brought up the case files for the Hamm break-in, photos of the inside of the flat. The open plan living space was tastefully decorated, mid- century style. The gap on the wall where the wrong artwork hung was like a big LOOK AT ME sign on these photos. There were two bedrooms. One of them looked like it was being used as a dressing room. Clothes were draped over the bed and hung from hooks on the wall. The other wall was dominated by a vast wardrobe.
Rhodri pushed himself back, crashing into her chair. “Sorry, boss.”
“Hmm?” She dragged her eyes from the screen.
“Adams has got to report here every week. He’s given his passport in. He’ll be appearing in court next month for possession of stolen goods.”
Deadly Wishes (Detective Zoe Finch Book 1) Page 18