“Oh hang on, what about a games console?”
Hayes shrugged at Miller. “They’re connected to your broadband, I guess they can. I don’t see why not. Were you playing on a console at the time?”
His face lit up. “You bet I was. From about ten until two in the fucking morning. And I played with other players. You know, with a headset, chatting and stuff.”
Miller was excited as well. “Really? You talked to real people?”
“Why the fuck didn’t I think of this before? Of course! Yeah, I was beating the shit out of some arsehole Yank at Call of Duty: WW2 at the time. And we got into a bit of an argument. He’ll remember it.”
“Will your system record all this?” Hayes knew next to nothing about video games consoles, and staring at Miller, neither did she.
“It won’t record our verbal chat, but it records everything else. My console will tell you when I switched it on and off, where I paused it, and updated it. If I give you the little shit’s handle, you can contact him, can’t you?”
“Outstanding!” Hayes nodded. “Absolutely. If this kid can corroborate your story, you’re in the clear. We’ll need to confiscate your console to add verification, but if this all comes to pass, you’ll be off our list of suspects.”
“I don’t know why I didn’t think of it. I’ll get you that name.”
Hayes’ mobile vibrated in her pocket. She delved inside her jacket and retrieved it. The digital display informed her it was the pathologist. “Hi Sheila, what’s up?”
“Sorry to do this, Amanda, but you need to come down here. I’m processing Henry Curtis, and something’s presented itself that I need to show you.” Sheila sounded both excited and perplexed.
“Yes, we’ll be right over. Listen, is this going to be good or bad news?”
“I think it depends on your perspective, but knowing you as well as I do, good news.”
34
Miller pulled into East Ham Mortuary, where they were due to meet the pathologist. After parking up, Miller locked their car and walked with Hayes to Sheila’s exam room, which held four examination benches, only one of which was in use. Even from a distance she recognised the corpse was that of Henry Curtis.
“You were very cryptic over the phone, Sheila,” Hayes said, following the pathologist over to Henry’s body. “What’s up?”
“As you can see, from here all looks usual for a suicide, right? Slit wrists, and although done horizontally, and not vertically, very effective. The body almost bled dry, which struck alarm bells with me.”
Miller observed the deep gashes on Henry’s wrists. When Sheila prised the wound apart, Miller saw white. “Is that bone?”
“It is, very good. And do you know why it rang alarm bells with me? Slashers rarely dig that deep.” Sheila put the arm down.
Hayes stepped forward. “Really? I didn’t know that.”
“You have to think about this logically. Anyone who is contemplating suicide is on the edge of the abyss, right? They’re going to be petrified. Most of the slashers I’ve seen come through here have made several attempts at their wrists prior to severing arteries deep enough to kill them. Mostly, they’re scared and don’t really want to kill themselves. But here, there are no marks from previous attempts, no hacking practises, just two clean slices, right to the bone. In my time here at the mortuary, I’ve never seen two cleaner cuts.”
“Right, I’m with you, but what does it mean?” Hayes raised an eyebrow. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
“It got me curious. I wanted to see if there were any other marks on the skin that shouldn’t be there. Here, help me with the body, would you?”
Watching the pathologist and Hayes roll the body onto its side, Miller stepped closer when Sheila probed the back of Henry’s head, going through his hair. “Is that a scab?” She saw a dark circle in the centre.
Sheila and Hayes rolled Henry face down. “That’s from a gun muzzle.”
Miller was having trouble processing the information. “Wait! Are you saying Henry Curtis was murdered? He didn’t kill himself?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying. At some point, Henry’s killers put a gun against his head so hard it broke the skin, leaving that mark. You said there was a letter found in the home? My guess is, if you asked a graphologist to analyse his handwriting, the results would say he wrote it under duress.”
“So, you believe the killer forced him to slit his own wrists?” Miller was still having trouble believing it.
“With how cleanly his wrists were sliced, I’d say it’s more likely your suspect slit his wrists. They aren’t cuts of a suicidal man, detective. Like I said, they set alarm bells ringing. They’re the reason I looked elsewhere on the body.”
“And you’re certain the scab on the back of his head is from the muzzle of a gun? You’re going to write that on your report?” When Sheila confirmed she would, Hayes turned to Miller. “Smile, partner, at least now we can stop investigating Reid and Austin.”
35
Charlotte Edwards opened her front door to let in her brother. When she received a phone call from Hayes that she had information about her brother’s and Henry’s deaths earlier, she suggested they drive over to her house. When she hung up with the detective, she immediately phoned Richard, who was driving at the time. “Oh good, you got here first,” she said, letting him through.
“Tell me what the detective said, Lottie.” He stood in the hallway, agitated.
After closing the door, she faced him. “What? Nothing! She told me she has news about Colin’s and Henry’s deaths, that she needs to speak with us. Why? What are you hiding?”
Richard seemed unduly irritable. “I’m not hiding anything.”
“Then why are you so tense? I heard you talking to Henry before. I know you had something going on with him, so you might as well tell me what it is before they get here. And don’t lie to me; you’re a terrible liar.”
Instead of revealing all, Richard went to her dining room, opened her drinks cabinet, and poured himself a whisky. “Do you want one?” When he necked a double measure, Charlotte saw his hand shaking.
“It’s a bit early for that, isn’t it? Are you an alcoholic, or something? It’s barely midday, and you’re necking it like it’s squash.” She watched him slam back another double. “Right, that’s enough. You’re not going to be pissed before the police get here.”
Closing the drinks cabinet, she shooed her brother away. “What’s wrong with you? This isn’t like you at all; you’re normally so together, so with it.”
“One of my employees died last night,” Richard replied, sitting on her sofa.
Charlotte sat next to him. “Oh Richard, that’s awful. I’m so sorry for going off on one. I didn’t know.” She left a pause before asking, “How did it happen?”
“Car crash late last night. He wrapped his Beamer round a tree on his way home to his wife. I only found out this morning because his wife left several voicemails for me.” He sat with his head hung. “I can’t believe he’s gone. I mean, first my brother’s murdered, then Henry tops himself, and now my second-in-command dies in a car crash. Can anything else bad happen? It’s not like I’ve got enough on my plate.”
Charlotte was taken aback. In all her years, she’d never seen Richard cry, not once. Not even as a kid. He was always the strong, dependable one, whereas Colin was always the fuck-up, the black sheep who could do nothing right. Her place was smack bang in the middle of the two. “I’m so sorry!”
She put her right arm around his shoulder. He sobbed for the first time in front of her, his shoulders shaking. Charlotte didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t get any comfort from his ex-wife, so Charlotte guessed she would have to suffice. “Let it out. It’s been a shit week all right.” Understatement of the year, she thought.
After ten minutes, she let go of him and stepped up to the drinks cabinet. “I think we can both use one of these.” She poured two double shots of whisky, had one
herself, and watched her elder brother knock his back. It burned when it slid down her throat.
“Didn’t the detective give anything away?” Richard’s words were bordering slurred. “Why would she need to speak to us again so soon?”
Charlotte shut the cabinet door and picked up Richard’s glass. “She said she has information for us, that’s all. And she’s only expecting to see me, not you. I called you because I thought you’d want to be here.”
“I do, I want to know what’s going on with Colin’s case as much as you.”
She thought he seemed a bit disingenuous. Her brother wasn’t interested in Colin’s case; he was there to find out more about what the detectives had. His mannerisms weren’t right. And he’d shrugged her off when she mentioned he and Henry had something going on, which made her even more suspicious. “Why won’t you tell me?” She sat next to him again, hoping the intimacy might soften him into confessing all.
“Tell you what? There’s nothing to tell.”
Charlotte grew up with him. If Richard didn’t want to elaborate, there was no forcing him. As pig-headed as he was blinkered. She sighed. “Fine! I didn’t hear you talking at Henry’s.” She rose from the sofa and walked over to the window, as a white Peugeot pulled into her driveway. “They’re here!”
As they stepped onto the porch, she opened the door and greeted them, letting them past. “Go on through to the lounge. Richard’s already in there.” She flapped a little, checking the detectives didn’t want refreshments.
“Honestly, Mrs Edwards, we’re fine. We can’t be long, we’re interviewing a suspect this afternoon.” Hayes pulled a notebook and pen out of her pocket.
Charlotte thought Hayes looked so pretty in her suit, with her hair tied back in a ponytail. She was lovely-looking with a heavy tan. And her partner was attractive, in an Amazonian way, being at least six feet tall, or so Charlotte thought. “So, you said you have news about Colin’s case? And Henry’s?”
“We do, yes. You see, we’ve just come from the mortuary where the pathologist is working on Mr Curtis.” Hayes paused.
“And? He committed–”
“Actually, he didn’t commit suicide after all, Mrs Edwards.”
Confused, Charlotte looked at her brother, and back to Hayes. “Then how? I saw him in the tub, detective. The water was red. He had cuts on his wrists.”
“I’m sorry to tell you this, but he was murdered.”
Charlotte gasped, placing her palms over her mouth. With shaky hands, she got up and wandered over to the drinks cabinet, pulled the door down and poured herself another whisky. “But how?” She held the glass.
“Oh for God’s sake, Lottie, someone sliced his wrists while he was in the bath to make it look like he committed suicide. It doesn’t take a genius–”
“That’s enough, Mr Fisher!” Miller’s warning was heeded. “We’re here to update you on your brother’s case. And now we know your brother-in-law was murdered, we have questions that need answering.”
Her brother shut up immediately. Charlotte chugged the whisky back, then nodded when Miller asked her if she was ready. “Are you suggesting the same person killed my brother and Henry?” Hayes nodded. “But why? What have they ever done to anyone? They didn’t deserve this.”
“This is what we need your help with, Mrs Edwards. You couldn’t help us much before, so we need you both to dig deep now, okay? Can you think of anyone who might harbour a grudge against your brother and his husband?”
“Or Colin or Henry individually?” Hayes waited with pen at the ready.
Charlotte closed her eyes, like it would somehow magic up a lead for them. “I’m sorry, detectives, I don’t. Richard and I didn’t know Colin all that well, I guess. He wasn’t the easiest man to know, or like for that matter. He was very self-centred, and had an addiction to pretty much everything, which got him in trouble, all the time.”
“Mr Fisher?” Miller regarded her brother. “Do you have anything you want to add? Can you think of anyone your brother or Henry had issues with?”
“What? No, of course not. They were a lovely couple.” He sat back in his seat and stared up at the ceiling. “But you said you’re interviewing a suspect this afternoon, so you must have an idea who’s responsible?”
Noticing an exchange between the two detectives, Charlotte waited.
“One name kept cropping up during our investigation, a name who had a link to the three victims, your brother included, and now Henry.” Hayes paused again.
“Let me guess: Melodi Demirci?”
“It’s looking more and more likely that Demirci might be responsible, not that we can prove it. Without proof, we have nothing. That’s why we’re here. Did you know your brother and Henry had dealings with her?”
“Who told you that? I bet it was Henry’s personal assistant, wasn’t it?”
Charlotte went and sat next to her inebriated brother. “You’ll have to excuse Richard, he’s just found out an employee of his died in a car crash this morning.” Expecting sympathy, the detectives instead eyeballed one another. “What?”
“Nothing! We’re sorry to hear that, Mr Fisher.” Hayes sounded genuine, except the glance she gave her partner was anything but.
“That’s some bad luck, Mr Fisher. I mean, first your brother’s shot, then your brother-in-law’s murdered, and now an employee dies in a car crash?” Miller didn’t hide her suspicions. “Did you know this employee well?”
Richard sneered. “Don’t try to turn this around on me. I hardly knew him. You really shouldn’t listen to Ilya whatsherface. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about. Henry didn’t know that woman.”
Why was he protecting Demirci? Charlotte gave Miller an apologetic glance. “He doesn’t know what he’s saying. He’s slurring his words. I gave him some whisky earlier because he was upset.” She didn’t like the exchanges between the detectives. “Shut up, Richard! You don’t know what you’re saying.”
“I’m afraid he did, Mr Fisher.” Hayes stared at her brother. “It turns out that Henry went to Melodi Demirci for a business loan.”
“Only it was far more than just a loan.” Miller sat back.
“The contract Henry signed to get hold of his start-up investment gives Demirci first dibs on buying his shares of the radio station. In a few days, I’m guessing she’ll be signing a contract with his solicitor giving her total control over Henry’s company. I’m sure Demirci will have a CEO in place by the end of next week. And Accord FM will still be operational, with only a few days of interruption.”
Charlotte saw the seriousness in Hayes’ eyes. “Do you expect us to buy that? Henry was a businessman. Why would he do that?”
“And that’s crap, because Henry was in the process of buying her out.”
Silence filled the room, cushioning them all.
Charlotte saw the suspicion in their eyes.
“But you just said Henry doesn’t know her, Mr Fisher.” Miller leaned forward, awaiting a reply from Charlotte’s stupid brother. “And now you’re telling us he wanted to buy her out of the business?”
“Really, detectives, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. He’s drunk.” Charlotte wanted the police officers out of her house. “I think maybe we should reschedule this for another time?” Fortunately, Hayes agreed.
“I think you’re right. You know it’s against the law to lie to a police officer, Mr Fisher? It’s called obstruction of justice. Here, take my card, Mrs Edwards, call and we’ll arrange separate interviews with you both. Oh, and they will be recorded.” Hayes stood, glaring down at both siblings.
36
“Richard Fisher’s the key, sir. I know it.” Hayes looked at Inspector Gillan for acknowledgement. Sat in a small conference room with Gillan and Miller, Hayes’ leg bobbed up and down under the table.
“And you think we should focus solely on the Fishers now?” Inspector Gillan looked at her, then Miller. “Do you agree, Detective Miller?”
“Absolutely
. Richard Fisher’s the key, like Hayes said. He might have been inebriated at the time, but he outright lied to us.”
Gillan scratched his head. “I don’t know about this. We’re kind of putting all our eggs in one basket. The suspect might have targeted Reid or Austin, we don’t know. I just don’t like the thought of leaving avenues of investigation unchecked.”
“Please, sir, I’ve never been more sure of anything. He knows more than he’s letting on. He lied to us. Plus, we all know she’s behind this; her DNA’s all over it.”
Hayes waited while Gillan mulled it over. He got up from his seat and strolled over to the window and looked out onto the street below. A clock hung on the wall opposite her ticked loudly. “Sir?”
“You’re right. We’ll make Richard Fisher and Charlotte Edwards the focus of this investigation, for the time being. This might change over the course of the next few days, though, is that clear?”
“Crystal, sir. Thank you.”
Gillan turned to Miller. “Miller, while we’re in with Miss Demirci, I want you to gather as much information as you can about the Fishers, that includes Charlotte Edwards, and Henry Curtis. If this family is at the epicentre of this case, I want to know everything about them. Look into the businesses, Accord FM, and I believe Richard Fisher owns Fisher Valves, if my memory serves me. We’ll get to the bottom of it. Amanda, you’re with me.”
“You’ve got it.” Miller rushed out of the room.
Hayes stood and regarded him. “I know he’s the one. You had to be there.”
“You can stop the sales pitch now.” Gillan gathered up his paperwork, then stared at the door. Gillan eyed her with suspicion. “Before we go, is Miller dating Luke Walker going to be a problem for us?”
“What? No, of course not. Why would it? She’s great company because of him and if they break up she’ll go back to being a pain in my arse.”
The Hard Way Page 14