by Celina Grace
She wandered aimlessly back to the interview room and took a quick peek through the glassed-in section in the door. She could lipread Nick Riley’s responses to Martin’s questions from there and they were exactly as she’d predicted. No comment. No comment. No comment.
Kate tried to think positively. She was pretty sure there would be forensic proof of Nick Riley having handled the drugs or the guns: fingerprints, DNA. They had concrete proof that he was the only one with keys to the shed and the cupboard. There was the CCTV evidence of him being in the vicinity of Bucklesbury House late on those nights. Along with Rosamund Kite…
Kate had been climbing the stairs back to the office but she found herself slowing. Drifting to a halt by a window that looked out at the higgledy-piggledy rooftops of Abbeyford, Kate stared out at the vista, unseeing. There was that niggle again, the nudge of something she felt she was missing. What was it?
Rosamund Kite. Was it… Was it possible that the woman was actually involved with Nick Riley in a more nefarious way than in simply having an affair with him? Was she, in fact, a business partner in the dealing of weapons and drugs? But then why wouldn’t she have keys to the shed and its contents?
It was an intriguing thought. Kate tore her gaze from the window and began re-ascending the stairs. It wasn’t very often that you came across middleclass, middle-aged women embroiled in the black market for guns and cocaine, but it was possible. Possible… Kate pushed open the door of the office, frowning as she thought.
“Alright?” Chloe asked as she sat down opposite her but Kate was too lost in thought to acknowledge her friend beyond a wave of her hand. There had been something odd about both Nick and Rosamund’s first reaction to the suggestion they’d been having an affair. Hadn’t there? Kate clenched her fist in frustration. Was she just making stuff up now, flailing around for an explanation?
Why would both of them say they were having an affair if they weren’t? Because, as Chloe had pointed out earlier, adultery was immoral, not illegal. Better to think that their illicit meetups were for sex on the side, rather than gun running and drug dealing. Kate thought back to her conversation with Rosamund. She was a better actress than Kate had given her credit, if what she was thinking were true. He made me feel—oh, I don’t know—alive. As if I were waking up from a deep sleep. But then, hadn’t Kate thought right there and then on hearing that, that it was another cliché made flesh? Nothing unique about it. Because it wasn’t true?
Of course, it was entirely possible that Nick and Rosamund were lovers, as well as being involved in the gun and drug running. One thing didn’t preclude the other. Well, if forensics found Rosamund’s DNA and fingerprints on any of the contents of the shed, then that was pretty watertight. Kate would just have to be patient while SOCO and the forensic team did their stuff. And then, if they found anything—or even if they didn’t—she would pull in Rosamund Kite for further questioning, under caution this time.
It all sounded very positive, but something still niggled at Kate. Sighing, she got up to make herself and Chloe a cup of coffee, her head in a whirl.
Chapter Thirty Seven
John Cooper, Ricky Khan’s Met contact, rang Kate back that afternoon. He had a pleasant voice burred with the tinge of a Yorkshire accent. After the usual pleasantries, Kate asked him about the alibis of Mohammed Abib and Aqib Abdullah.
“Oh, aye, that was one of the first things we established. Abib was out with a girl for the night of Minhas’s murder, out in Tottenham. He spent the whole night with her, we’ve got CCTV to corroborate him going into her house with her at 2am.”
Well, that was one off the list. Kate found herself unsurprised. More and more, she could feel that the answer to Samir’s death lay in another relationship to the one he’d had with his jihadi friends. “Right,” she said, out loud. “How about the other one? Abdullah?”
“He was at home with his parents. That’s a slightly more shaky alibi. His parents are clearly prepared to lie for him. But there’s nothing to pinpoint him being anywhere in the vicinity of Bucklesbury House on the night of the murder.”
“Right,” Kate said again. “Anything else I should know?”
John Cooper exhaled noisily. “Nothing I can think of, to be honest. Both are back in custody. I’ll keep you posted, lass.”
“Well, thank you for your time.” Kate said goodbye and slotted the handset back into its cradle, thinking hard. After a moment, she got up and made her way to Olbeck’s office.
“Hey,” he greeted her. “Looks like we’re making progress.”
“Yes. Although—” Kate updated him on the conversation she’d just had with John Cooper. “I’m more and more convinced that him being undercover is a red herring.”
“It sounds likely.” Olbeck looked troubled. “What do you want from me, Kate?”
Kate leant forward. “I’d like a warrant to search Rosamund Kite’s house. And car. And office.”
“Nothing simpler.” Olbeck reached for his phone. “Give me a few minutes and then you can fire away.”
“Thanks.” Kate smiled at him affectionately.
As Olbeck dialled the number he needed, he looked across at her. “How’s the house hunting going, by the way?”
“Oh—” Kate was momentarily blindsided. “It’s kind of fallen by the wayside at the moment, actually. You know what it’s like.”
“I do. Well, I hope you find something soon. Moving is so stressful.”
“Thanks.” Kate got up again. “I’m going to re-join the search at Bucklesbury House. We’ve already got a warrant for that, so I can have a look round Rosamund’s office.”
“Great. Keep me posted.”
Kate drove to Bucklesbury House under a low, grey sky. The weather was warmer than it had been the day before but there was a sharp wind that had Kate wrapping a woolly scarf around her neck and pulling on her gloves before leaving her car. As she walked towards the front of the house, she could see people in the grounds and gardens continuing the search.
Thankful that she was searching indoors today, Kate made her way to Rosamund Kite’s office, sure of the right way there now. She wondered whether Rosamund would actually be there but, after knocking on the door to the room, Kate opened it to find it empty. Good. It was a pleasant room, as offices went. The large windows on either side of the room looked over the gardens and woodland of the estate. It was over-furnished but homely. Rosamund’s desk was a big wooden one, with a large sagging sofa over on one side of the room. Observing it, Kate had the unexpected and prurient thought of wondering whether Rosamund and Nick had ever had sex on it.
Where to start? The desk, obviously. Kate sat down in Rosamund’s comfy chair and regarded the cluttered surface. Kate eyed a set of desk drawers to the left of her and tugged at the top one, relieved that it slid straight open and wasn’t locked. And there it was, right on top of a heap of papers and documents: a cheap burner phone.
Kate regarded it thoughtfully. Well, well, well. She knew it wasn’t Rosamund’s ‘main’ phone as she’d seen Rosamund using a blue iPhone before when she’d been on the premises. What had she said to Nick Riley about people who tended to have two phones? Cheats and drug dealers. Well, she knew Rosamund was the first, so this discovery wasn’t exactly earthshattering. But was she also a drug dealer? It seemed unlikely, but then, people could surprise you. After a moment, Kate checked her gloves were securely on, took the phone from the drawer and sealed it into an evidence bag. That could be fingerprinted back at the station.
She continued the search, lifting out papers, sifting through correspondence. Part of her was wondering if she’d come across anything truly startling; more weapons, more drugs perhaps? Two hours rolled by with Kate working solidly before she could safely conclude that—phone aside—there was nothing of significance there. She packed the contents of a wall cupboard back as neatly as she could—a red plastic stool, a box full
of stationery, a picnic basket, quite a nice wicker one with a lining of blue and white gingham—closed the door and stood upright, groaning at the ache in her back.
She went to join the others who were searching different parts of the house. This was going to take longer than a day, Kate thought; the place was enormous. She tried to guess how many rooms were there but her imagination failed.
Theo was working in the basement with Rav. He raised a hand in greeting as Kate walked down the cold stone steps. “All right, mate?”
Kate told them of her meagre find in Rosamund’s office.
“That’s all?” Theo said in a disappointed tone.
“Well, to be fair, I wasn’t really expecting to find anything. I’m going to run back to the station to get it fingerprinted.”
Rav rubbed his hands together, shivering. “God, it’s almost as cold down here as it is outside.”
Kate patted him on the shoulder. “Shall I bring you guys a hot drink before I go?”
“Yes, please.”
“Consider it done.”
Chapter Thirty Eight
The office was quiet when Kate returned, most of the officers engaged in the search at Bucklesbury House. Olbeck was in his office, on the telephone, and Chloe was tapping industriously at her keyboard.
Kate held out the phone in the evidence bag. “Would you mind fingerprinting that for me, bird?”
“Of course. Whose is it?”
“Well, seeing as I found it in the top drawer of Rosamund Kite’s office, I’m assuming it’s hers. But if we can lift some prints, we can tell for sure.”
“No problem. I’ll do it right now.”
“And run the results for me as well, naturally.”
“Naturally,” Chloe said with a grin.
“Thanks. I’ll make us a brew while you do. Ooh, that rhymes.”
“You’re a poet and you don’t know it.”
Kate snorted as she walked towards the kitchen area. Both she and Chloe liked Earl Grey, so a pot of tea it was to be. No milk, obviously. Pity they didn’t have a lemon, but this was a police station, not a café. Smiling to herself, Kate carried the two mugs back to their desks.
She was sipping hers when Chloe returned with the fingerprinted phone and a hungry expression on her face. Not dismay, no, exultation. Kate sat up abruptly.
“What is it?”
Chloe seated herself across from Kate and looked her directly in the eye. “I found Rosamund Kite’s prints all over it.” She put the phone, which was resealed in the evidence bag, down on her desk.
That piece of information couldn’t be responsible for the triumphant tone of Chloe’s voice. “And?” asked Kate. “Let me guess, Nick Riley’s fingerprints were on it too.”
Chloe shook her head, her blonde hair bouncing. “No. None whatsoever.”
“Come on, then, what?” What with Theo and now Chloe milking the moment of reveal for the most suspense, Kate felt like screaming.
“Samir Minhas.” Chloe looked at Kate across the desk, deadpan. “Samir’s fingerprints were on it.”
Excitement punched Kate in the stomach. “No.”
“Yes.” Chloe held out a sheaf of print-outs. Kate took them and rapidly shuffled through them. Chloe was right. The only other prints found on the phone were from Samir. “God.”
“I know.” They looked at each other. Kate was the first to break eye contact, looking back down at the evidence in front of her.
“So, what does this actually mean?”
Chloe threw up her hands. “Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it? Samir was in on the dealing, wasn’t he? And so was Rosamund. I mean, just because Samir’s undercover doesn’t mean that he wasn’t bent. He could be investigating the jihadi group quite, well, legitimately, but still skimming some cash off on the side. And didn’t Rosamund deny knowing Samir when you showed her his picture?”
“God, she did, too.” Kate looked down again at the print-outs, troubled. She’d never known Samir but she’d had the impression that he was, well, one of the good guys. Not honest, not that; by definition if you were spying, you weren’t being straightforward… Had he decided that if he was going to break one rule, one law, he may as well break them all? May as well be hung for a sheep as for a lamb.
“Kate?”
Kate came back to reality with a start. “Sorry. Just thinking.”
“What do we do now?”
Kate thought fast. “Well, surely Rosamund Kite needs to be re-interviewed again. Under caution, this time.”
“I’ll do it.” Chloe had already stood up and was groping for her bag under the desk.
“No.” Kate surprised herself. “I’ll do it. You stay here and do some more digging. I want phone records pulled on that phone. Go through all the texts, WhatsApp, Snapchat, Kik, whatever it has, everything. Run a search on Rosamund Kite. Does she have a record of anything?” She thought, with a qualm, that was what they should have done already. But nobody was perfect…
“I’m on it.”
“Great. Thanks.” Kate stood up and pulled on her coat. “Right, I’m off to Charlock.”
Chloe looked a little uneasy. “I don’t think you should go on your own. Just in case.”
Fired up as she was, Kate couldn’t deny the wisdom of Chloe’s statement. “Yes, you’re right. I’ll call one of the guys.”
The sun was setting as Kate drove to Charlock, blood red clouds giving way to darkness filtering through the sky, like ink infusing water. A crescent moon glimmered, a cold white sickle in the blackness of space, stars littering the expanse of the sky like a sprinkling of diamonds. Incredible to think that people had actually been there, thought Kate, driving through the empty countryside lanes, headlights on full. She thought of being on the surface of the moon, looking back through the void to the jewelled beauty that was planet Earth. How lonely those astronauts must have felt. How far, how very far from home.
She shook off her melancholy thoughts as she took the dual carriageway for Charlock. Theo was due to meet her at Rosamund Kite’s house. Blessed (or cursed) as she was with a vivid imagination, Kate could just not imagine Rosamund—frumpy, mumsy fifty something—as a big time dealer in drugs and weapons. But perhaps that was the most perfect disguise, after all. Hadn’t she once thought that a jihadi group meeting at a National Trust stately home was a genius double bluff?
The street sign for the road she needed loomed in her headlights. Rendell Place. How deeply ordinary, how deeply suburban. Kate flicked on her indicator and swung the wheel, wondering whether this would all be a colossal waste of time.
Chapter Thirty Nine
Theo had arrived ahead of her. He’d parked away from Rosamund Kite’s house, displaying discretion that Kate approved of. She swung her car into the kerb behind his and turned the ignition off.
“So, what’s the deal?” Theo asked as she extracted herself from the car, pulling on her jacket.
Kate told him as succinctly as she could. He raised his eyebrows. “Is that seriously what you think happened?”
“I don’t know. I’m keeping an open mind. But evidence doesn’t lie.” Those very words were Anderton’s, memorised from years ago, and Kate felt a spasm of pain at the memory.
When Rosamund opened the door to them, a fleeting but unmistakeable look of alarm crossed her face. But that didn’t necessarily mean anything. Many innocent people would be discombulated at the appearance of two police officers at the door. Kate hastened to reassure Rosamund. “Please don’t be alarmed, Mrs Kite. Nothing’s wrong. We just wanted to have a chat with you.”
“Well, it’s not very convenient at the moment—” Rosamund began, but Kate wasn’t having that.
“Well, here’s the thing. We can chat here, or you can come back to the station with us.”
Rosamund went pale, her fingers clutching the edge of the door. “W
hat? Am I… am I being arrested?”
“No,” Kate said, resisting the urge to add ‘not yet’.
Rosamund seemed to pull herself together. “Well—well, please come in, then.” As if unable to stop herself, she looked at Theo, with curiosity and something else. Something more.
Rosamund showed them into the living room and perched herself on the edge of an armchair. Kate and Theo took the overstuffed sofa, moving the myriad cushions out of the way.
“What… Can I ask what this is about?” Nerves made Rosamund’s voice wobble a little.
Kate took her time replying. She smiled at the woman, ostensibly reassuringly. Again, she saw Rosamund’s gaze slide once more to Theo. “Mrs Kite, as you know, we’re investigating the murder of Samir Minhas. Did you know him?”
Rosamund looked straight at Kate. “You know I didn’t know him. I’ve said so.”
“Right.” Kate took the burner phone from her bag, still sealed away in an evidence bag. “Is this your phone, Mrs Kite?”
Rosamund’s gaze welded itself to the phone, the bag rotating gently in Kate’s grasp. “No,” she said, after a moment.
“You’re sure about that?”
“Of course I’m sure.” Rosamund sounded offended. “I’ve never seen that before in my life.”
Kate and Theo exchanged glances. “So, Mrs Kite, how then can you explain why your fingerprints were found all over it?”
Rosamund lost the remaining colour in her face. There was a minute’s silence before she choked a hoarse reply. “I… It’s… All right, it is my phone. I’m sorry, I don’t know why I told you it wasn’t.”
Kate looked at Theo, deliberately this time. Let the woman think they’d got something on her, worse than this. Pay out enough rope…