Deadly Wishes (Detective Zoe Finch Book 1)

by Rachel McLean

  “Hi, Connie.”

  “Boss. Guess who’s back?”

  Connie looked towards the internal office, beaming. Mo emerged, a wry smile on his face.

  “Mo? You’re supposed to be recovering.”

  He waved to dismiss her. “I’m fine. Catriona says I’m better off here than with the girls. And I’m on short hours, for a couple of days anyway.”

  “It’s gone six. Couldn’t you have waited till tomorrow?”

  “It doesn’t work like that on murder cases, and you know it.”

  “Yeah. Well, thanks. Be careful, alright?”

  He tipped a finger to his forehead in response.

  “Has Connie told you what’s going on?” Zoe asked him.

  “We have a new case, I gather. Irina Hamm. And they’ve taken us off the Jackson case.”

  “Don’t remind me. I was about to go to the morgue. You want to come?”

  “I’ve had a call from the DNA lab.”

  “They’ve done DNA on the Irina Hamm crime scene already?”

  “No,” said Mo. “Bryn Jackson. The lab didn’t know I wasn’t working this anymore.”

  Zoe dropped her leather jacket on her chair. “And?”

  “Interesting news.”

  “Go on.”

  “We have a match with a Kyle Gatiss. You and I interviewed him in the Canary case.”

  Zoe looked at Connie. “And he’s on the CCTV from the Hamm flat.”

  “Quite a coincidence.”

  “Maybe not. Where did they find his DNA?”

  “One of the whisky glasses, on Jackson’s desk.”

  “So we know he drank whisky with Jackson.” Zoe chewed on her forefinger, considering. “But we don’t know when.”

  “Trish Bright told us that Margaret Jackson goes round that house every evening like she’s running a search party, collecting up anything that might need washing up.”

  “She never went into his study.”

  He sighed. “Good point. So it could be nothing.”

  She shook her head. “It’s not nothing. Not at all. If Gatiss was visiting Jackson, then that links the ACC to Howard Petersen and maybe to Hamm too. If Gatiss broke into the flat with Adams, maybe he’d switched to working for Hamm, after we arrested Petersen.”

  “Or maybe they’re all one nice happy family together.”

  “Yeah.” She felt a fizzing sensation travel across her skin. “This is big.”

  Connie was looking between Zoe and Mo. “What d’you want us to do?”

  “I want you to keep this quiet, for now. I’ve already talked to Lesley. She knows I suspect Jackson might have been dodgy.”

  “And when were you going to tell us?” asked Mo.

  “You were in the hospital.”

  “You visited.”

  “Yeah, when Catriona was clucking over you. I wasn’t about to start prattling on about the ACC being corrupt in the middle of a busy hospital, was I?”

  “Fair point.”

  “You know now. I’m talking to Lesley, then I need to find out what’s going on with pathology. Rhodri should have been back by now.”

  “Good luck, Zo.”

  She gave him a smile. “Thanks. And you get home. Both of you. It’s getting late. You’ve only just come out of hospital and I know you’re not supposed to be back till tomorrow.”

  “But—”

  “But nothing. Bugger off and get some rest. You look like shit.”

  Chapter Sixty-Six

  “Carl. Where’s Lesley?”

  “She’s in with Randle and the Chief Constable. Preparing for a press conference tomorrow.”

  “We’ve had a development,” said Zoe. “In the Jackson case.”

  “I thought you were working the Hamm case?”

  “The DNA lab didn’t know we’d been moved. They rang Mo.”

  “Lesley won’t like that. Cross-contamination of—”

  “I think things are already pretty contaminated, don’t you?”

  “I’m just saying. Be careful.”

  “Look, Carl. I really need to speak to Lesley.”

  “You can tell me whatever it is. I won’t bite.”

  She eyed him. He was sitting at a desk in the centre of the dark room, surrounded by files and empty coffee cups. She wondered how much of his time he was spending on the Jackson case, and how much snooping around Randle.

  “They’ve matched the DNA from a whisky glass in Jackson’s study.”

  “And?”

  “A nasty piece of work called Kyle Gatiss. Worked for Howard Petersen.”

  “Who’s currently on trial in the Canary case.” He pursed his lips. Connie would enjoy watching that, Zoe thought.

  “Yeah,” she said. “And Gatiss is on the CCTV, breaking into the Hamm flat on the night Irina was assaulted. With Adams.”

  “You think it’s related?”

  “Has to be.” She took a breath and closed the door. She sat in the chair opposite him and lowered her voice.

  “Were you investigating Jackson before he died?”

  He returned her gaze, his face hard. “What would make you think that?”

  She swallowed. “You think Randle and Jackson were up to something together.”

  “Randle and Jackson were best mates for decades. If Jackson was up to something, Randle was probably helping him.”

  “You’ve only been here a couple of months. You weren’t on Canary. And there’s no evidence of that.”

  “No evidence of what?” Randle’s voice. Zoe felt his hand land on the back of her chair, just as her heart sank into her gut.

  Zoe turned to look up at the DCI. The door behind him was open. “Sir. We’ve found a DNA match in Jackson’s study.” How long had he been there?

  “I took you off that. If you want to stay as DI, you really need to start doing as you’re told.”

  “It was an accident. The lab thought Mo was still on the case, and they called him.”

  She eyed Carl. He would have seen Randle enter. He would have stopped talking.

  “So,” asked Randle. “Who’s the match?”

  “Kyle Gatiss,” said Zoe. “He worked for Howard Petersen, and we think he’s working for Trevor Hamm.”

  “Why?”

  “He was on the CCTV outside the Hamm flat on the night Irina was attacked.”

  “I told you to drop that too.”

  “The woman was murdered, sir. I think that changes things.”

  “You do, do you? Do we have anything on that yet? Pathology, forensics, CCTV?”

  “Connie’s speaking to the CCTV companies. There’s shedloads of them. And we’re waiting for the post-mortem.”

  She was going to roast Rhodri on a spit, when he finally got back. Why was he taking so long?

  Randle eyed Carl. “You got anything to say, DI Whaley?”

  “This is Zoe’s case, sir. Best to keep things separate.”

  “Hmm.” Randle turned to Zoe. “Carry on with the post-mortem and the CCTV. Leave this new evidence with me.”

  “I came to tell Lesley.”

  “Well, you’ve told me.”

  “Are you going to question Gatiss?”

  “Yes, I’m going to question Gatiss. Do you think I washed up with the tide, DI Finch?”

  “No, sir. Sorry.”

  He slammed out of the door. She turned back to Carl.

  “Thanks for helping me out there.”

  “You still think he’s clean?”

  “For fuck’s sake, Carl. Stop it. It looks like Jackson was dodgy. I’ll give you that. But don’t start uprooting any trees without knowing where they’ll fall.”

  He shook his head, saying nothing. Her phone rang. She checked the screen and her body slumped.

  “Nicholas. I told you to deal with—”

  “It’s not that. It’s Gran.”

  Zoe clenched her fists. Her mother was an attention seeker and a hypochondriac. She liked to weave a spell around Nicholas and convince him she was some
thing she wasn’t. “What now?”

  “She’s in the hospital, Mum.” His voice was small. “She’s had a stroke.”

  Chapter Sixty-Seven

  Once again, Zoe pulled into the car park of the Queen Elizabeth hospital. It was quieter now, no outpatients at this time of night. She didn’t even know if she’d be allowed in.

  She heaved on the parking brake and sat staring out into the night. Her mum had been faking illness since Zoe could remember. And if she wasn’t faking it, she was incapacitated or hungover.

  Zoe had grown up learning to tough out illness, mild or severe. To grit her teeth and carry on. That was what her dad had done. He’d been so focused on her mum, so preoccupied with keeping his good-for-nothing wife on an even keel, that he hadn’t noticed the lump on his neck until it was too late. Or maybe he had, but he’d just blotted it out. Zoe had a vague memory of him wearing a lot of high-collared shirts that year, but she’d just thought he was trying to be trendy.

  The hospital had been very different back when she’d come with him for his chemo. It only lasted two months, he was too far gone for there to be any point in more. And he’d died two weeks after it ended. His wife hadn’t come with him once in all that time. She hadn’t even come to the funeral. Too drunk. Zoe, a brand new DC, had accompanied him on all his chemo appointments, swapping shifts with colleagues and spending all her money on things she could offer in return. Cinema tickets, chocolates, gift vouchers.

  She headed for the main reception. It was eerie tonight with no one behind the front desk. A man was running a floor cleaning machine around the edge of the space. She heard distant voices and the vague hum of machinery.

  “Excuse me?” she said to the cleaner. He ignored her. She approached him and tapped his shoulder. He flinched and turned.

  “Good God, lady! Don’t do that to a person!” He tugged earbuds from his ears and rammed a finger into one of them, twisting it.

  “Do you know where someone who’s had a stroke should have been taken?”

  “Ward 514.” He went to shove the earbud back in his ear.

  “Where’s that?”

  “What am I, a map?” He pointed to a real map on the wall. “Check that. It’s easier than trying to remember directions in this place. But you’re lucky, it’s in this building.”

  “Thanks.”

  He shrugged his shoulders and went back to his cleaning, humming as he juddered away from her. She checked the map and found a lift.

  There was a young family sitting on chairs outside the lift, and a man standing away from them talking on a mobile phone. He wore a tweed dressing gown over frayed pyjamas.

  Zoe flashed the girl in the family a smile and headed towards the lift.

  A young nurse with severe acne was at the desk on the fifth floor. Zoe hurried to her, part relieved and part disappointed.

  “I’m here to see Annette Finch,” she said.

  “Who are you?”

  “Her daughter. Zoe Finch.”

  “It’s well gone visiting hours now.”

  “I know. But I only just heard she’d been brought in. When did she get here?”

  The nurse checked her screen. “She came in here at 6:13 pm. From A&E. No idea how long she was there. Probably a good few hours, that time of day.”

  “Can I see her?”

  “She’s sedated.”

  “Why?”

  “She hit one of the nurses.” The woman’s face clouded.

  “Oh God. I’m sorry.”

  “Not your fault. She’s your mum, not your child.”

  Zoe looked into this woman’s eyes, wondering how much she’d worked out about Zoe’s mum. After her dad had died, Zoe’s life had changed. It had been like she was the mother, and Annette the child. And a very difficult one at that. It was only when Nicholas was born that she’d left. There was no way she was raising him in a house with a drunk.

  “Look,” said the nurse. “You can have a peek.”

  “Thanks.”

  The nurse raised a finger to her lips and pushed open the doors behind her. She looked at Zoe intently. Zoe gave her a nervous smile.

  “In there,” the nurse whispered. She stopped at the second door along and pointed.

  Zoe looked through the glass in the door. Four women were asleep in the room. Her mum was nearest to the window, her head back on the pillows and her mouth open. Zoe could hear her snoring from here.

  “She always that loud?” asked the nurse.

  “Sorry.”

  “Figures. She’s going to have a hell of a hangover in the morning. Doctor reckons she’d drunk a litre of vodka.”

  Zoe nodded. “Was that what caused the stroke?”

  “Don’t think so.”

  Zoe turned to her. “So what did?”

  “You’ll have to ask her that, when she wakes up.” She beckoned for Zoe to follow her back to the desk. Zoe shuddered. She had no intention of coming back.

  “So we’ll see you back tomorrow, after eleven. That’s visiting.”

  “Er, yeah. Maybe.”

  The nurse raised an eyebrow. “She was asking for you.”

  I bet she was. Zoe pushed out of the ward, her heart racing and her brain full of fog.

  Chapter Sixty-Eight

  “You’re supposed to be on short days,” Zoe said.

  “I thought if I came in early and left early, it might be easier.”

  “And what time are you planning on leaving?”

  “Depends,” said Mo.

  She perched on her desk and surveyed her friend. He had dark circles under his eyes and his hair was unwashed. “You need to look after yourself.”

  “I’m fine. So, tell me what’s been going on while I’ve been away.”

  “You know about Gatiss.”

  “Yeah. Nasty bastard. Hope we can pin something to him this time.”

  “That’s not like you.”

  “He was the fixer for them, Zo. He found the kids. Those sick shits would have been nothing without him.”

  A shiver ran down her spine. “Yeah.”

  “So now we’ve got him at a murder scene and at the scene of an assault. I bet he’s got something to do with Irina’s death.”

  “That’s today’s job. Post-mortem should be in by now. Connie’s been going through Irina’s phone. And there’s CCTV. God knows there’s enough cameras around there.”

  “Too many,” said Mo.

  “How so?”

  “Maybe cameras can suffer from the bystander effect. Operators know how many of them there are, so they don’t feel the need to look after them. I bet ninety per cent of them will come up a dud.”

  “Hope not,” she said.

  “Everything OK with you? You look whacked.”

  “My mum had a stroke.”

  “Shit.” He reached a hand out to hers. “Sorry, Zo.”

  “Don’t be. I’m amazed it didn’t happen sooner.”

  “Was it her drinking that caused it?”

  She shrugged. “It can’t exactly give you the best healthcare outcomes, being an alkie for thirty years.”

  “Yeah. Sorry.”

  The door opened. Zoe looked up.

  “Rhodri. Where the hell were you yesterday?”

  “Sorry, boss. They were about to start when I got there. I decided to wait till they were done.”

  “And?”

  “The pathologist. Scary woman called Adana something. She made me go in. Said if I was going to stand around, I might as well make myself useful.”

  “Adana Adebayo. Yeah, she scared the life out of me when I was a rookie. She’s good, though. What did she tell you?”

  Rhodri blushed. “I fainted.”

  Zoe snorted. “Then what?”

  “Huh?”

  “Well, you came round, or you wouldn’t be here. Did she give you the report?”

  “She sent me home. Said I was getting in the way. She was still in there when I left.”

  Zoe gave Mo a look. Rhodri occasio
nally showed promise, but not today. “What time did you leave?”

  “Six.”

  “Right. Get on the phone. Speak to Dr Adebayo and find out what she says.”

  “Right. Sorry.”

  “Just get on with it.”

  Connie was next. She bounced in, very different from Rhodri slinking in before her. She draped her purple scarf over the hook on the back of the door and strode to her desk.

  “Ooh, brilliant,” she said.

  “What’s brilliant?” asked Mo.

  “Irina’s phone. Adi said he’d get it sent over for me.”

  “How did he have it?”

  “It was still in her flat. Not on her. Which is good, as it means there’s no water damage.”

  “Great. You get on with it,” said Zoe. “Rhodri, any joy with the pathologist?”

  He put his hand over the phone and nodded. She waited.

  “I’ll just get up to date on the paperwork,” said Mo.

  “No,” Zoe told him. “You go to the Hamm flat. Track Trevor down. He’s buggered off again, but he must have left a trace.”

  “Can I get some breakfast on the way?”

  “You’re convalescing. Of course you can.”

  Mo grabbed his coat. Rhodri put down the phone.

  “Post-mortem report’s done. She drowned.”

  “That’s it? She drowned?”

  “Her lungs were full of water. Signs of increased oxygen intake to the brain. Skin was wrinkled, they reckon she’d been in the water since afternoon or early evening on Wednesday. No injuries apart from the ones she’d already had from the assault. Nothing fresh. No bruising, no sign of defensive wounds. Either someone tripped her up or she jumped in.”

  “That gives us a window for CCTV. But I don’t believe she jumped in,” said Zoe. “It makes no sense.”

  “Maybe she fell?” suggested Connie. “She could have lost her footing.”

  “She was found right outside the building she lived in. She’d have known that section of the canals like the back of her hand. She wouldn’t have just fallen in.”