‘It must’ve slipped their minds.’
‘Mr Demiri, where were you two nights ago between eight o’clock and midnight?’
Demiri beamed. ‘I was at the launch of a new business venture of mine; an exclusive club in Romford. Many guests. Many witnesses,’ he added, glaring at the senior detective. He turned his attention to Kay, a smile playing on his lips. ‘Maybe you could join us for the opening night next month, Detective Hunter? It would be a pleasure to see you again.’
Kay lowered her gaze and cursed at the shiver that wracked her shoulders.
He knows, she thought. He knows I found the cameras and microphones.
A low chuckle emanated from the end of the table, and she jerked her head up to see Demiri watching her, a predatory smile on his lips.
Sharp cleared his throat. ‘I don’t think DS Hunter would wish to socialise with you, in all honesty. We’d like to make arrangements to interview the rest of your staff here—’
‘Impossible.’
‘I don’t think you fully appreciate your tenuous position, Mr Demiri. As I said, we’ll be making arrangements to interview your staff here, as well as anyone else associated with you during the course of our enquiries.’
Demiri held up his hand to stop Sharp, and glanced beyond Kay’s position at a knock on the door, a moment before it opened.
‘Mr Demiri, you requested a five minute warning.’
‘Thank you, Beatrice.’
Demiri rose from his chair, buttoned his jacket and gestured towards the door.
‘Now, Detectives, if you please – I have an important meeting to attend to, and you’ve already taken up enough of my time this morning.’
Sharp handed the man one of his business cards. ‘We’ll be in touch.’
‘I’m sure you will,’ said Demiri and walked them to the door.
Kay stopped on the threshold and turned to him.
‘Who drives for you now?’
Demiri held up his hands. ‘I like to drive myself these days.’
‘Good drivers hard to find?’
‘Trustworthy drivers are hard to find, Detective Hunter.’
Chapter Twelve
Jozef Demiri pressed a button on the remote control, then flung the device onto the polished surface of the conference table where it skidded to a halt next to an empty crystal water jug.
The screen on the wall sprang to life; a set of nine images from inside the building and out.
He moved closer and folded his arms as he watched the detective and her superior pause in the car park a few metres from where they’d left his offices. Detective Hunter stared up at the CCTV camera fixed to the gables before turning back to Sharp.
Demiri exhaled.
After all this time, after all the effort that had gone into ensuring she dropped the case against him, it seemed they would have their time after all.
A smile played on his lips, before he loosened his tie and undid the top button of his shirt.
His receptionist had lied, of course.
He had no appointments for the rest of the day. All of his business was conducted at night, after hours, under cover of darkness.
However, the office at the business park served to keep up appearances and lent some weight to the persona he had been careful to build.
That of a respectable, hardworking businessman.
At least the hardworking part was right, he mused.
Ever since he’d arrived in the county twenty years ago, he’d been focused solely on creating and maintaining a business empire that now stretched beyond the south-east coast of England.
His network of contacts and connections spread like tendrils throughout the southern counties and into northern France, and his reputation for brutality ensured few dared to cross his path.
He adjusted the gold cuff links at his wrists, before turning his back on the screens and pressing a button on the console at the head of the table.
‘Beatrice, send in Oliver Tavender.’
‘Right away, Mr Demiri.’
Demiri smiled. The young woman that sat outside in the reception area had been hand-picked by him, saving her from a future that had befallen many of her Romanian compatriots.
He knew he could trust her – and she knew he was well aware of her family’s whereabouts in Brasov should she dare cross him.
Her loyalty was assured.
There was a knock on the door two minutes later, and a burly man in his late thirties entered the meeting room, his thin hair slicked back giving him an aged appearance. A little taller than Demiri, he was as wide with pockmarked skin across his nose, which looked as if it had been broken more than once.
He shut the door and remained standing at the foot of the long table, his hands crossed in front of him, his pale blue eyes unblinking.
‘I’ve had a visit from Detective Hunter and her boss,’ said Demiri, his voice level.
‘I saw, on the cameras. Do they suspect anything?’
A thin smile crossed Demiri’s lips. ‘Oh, they always suspect something,’ he said. ‘It’s simply a matter of what they suspect.’
‘Stokes?’
‘Crashed his car on the motorway after leaving here.’
‘Did he survive?’
‘My contacts tell me he has.’
‘A pity.’
‘Indeed. Although it’s early days – apparently, the surgery was touch and go, and he’s still in intensive care.’
‘I can’t get to him there.’
‘I wasn’t going to suggest you do. There are other ways.’
‘What about the dead girl?’
Demiri shrugged. ‘Not our problem.’ He pointed at the screen. ‘She, however, is.’
Tavender moved closer and peered at the image.
Hunter and the senior detective appeared deep in conversation, their heads bowed as they walked towards their vehicle.
Demiri drummed his fingers on the table. ‘It is unfortunate we haven’t been able to watch her more closely.’
‘The listening devices were of the highest quality,’ said Tavender. ‘As were the cameras we installed in her house.’
‘They should not have failed.’
‘I’m sorry, Mr Demiri – it happens—’
Demiri waved away the excuse and glared at the retreating figures on the screen, before leaning forward and pressing a different button. The screen flickered, and then switched to a different channel. ‘Forget it. It is too late now.’
‘What do you want us to do, Mr Demiri?’
‘Keep an eye on her. Keep it low-key for the moment. When the time comes, I’ll tell you. Detective Sergeant Kay Hunter is going to wish she’d never met me.’ He swivelled his chair round until he could watch the show being broadcast on the screen to his side.
‘Your obsession with her will be the death of you, Jozef,’ said Tavender softly.
Demiri chuckled. ‘Or her.’
Chapter Thirteen
Sharp stood aside and held the door to the incident room open for Kay.
‘Get the team rounded up. We’ll debrief early today. I’m sure they’re keen to know how it went before I head over to headquarters.’
‘Guv.’
‘How’d you get on?’ said Barnes as she dumped her bag on her chair and signalled to him to move towards the whiteboard at the end of the room.
‘He’s stalling,’ she murmured. ‘Said he doesn’t know who the man is – or, at least, he can’t remember his name. Says he doesn’t know who the woman is, either.’
‘Is he telling the truth, do you think?’
‘No. I reckon he’s lying through his teeth. He was too smooth, Ian. Ready for us.’
They broke off their conversation as Gavin wheeled his chair towards the whiteboard and sat down, his excitement palpable.
Kay moved closer to the front of the room, her thoughts tumbling over each other.
She couldn’t help feeling that they’d missed something, that she should’ve left Demiri
’s offices victorious. Instead, it seemed she’d miscalculated what his response to their unannounced visit would be, and it left her worried.
‘Okay, Sarge?’
She turned to Gavin, forcing a smile. ‘Yes, thanks. Lots to think about, that’s all.’
‘We’ll get him, don’t you worry.’
‘You betcha.’
Kay watched as Carys approached Sharp, and he stooped a little so he could listen to what the young detective constable had to say, and then gestured to the waiting group.
She joined Kay and Barnes and pulled a chair out next to them.
‘News?’ said Kay.
‘Yes. Sharp’s asked me to hang fire, and we’ll go through it with everyone.’
Kay nodded, and settled in for the debrief.
It made sense to wait for Carys’s news if it was going to involve the whole team, rather than have her repeat it – the group discussion often unearthed new ideas and theories, which would otherwise be lost.
Sharp began the briefing, noting the date and time for the official record, and provided the team with a detailed account of the interview with Jozef Demiri.
Despite being present at the time, Kay took notes alongside her colleagues, knowing from experience that often someone else’s viewpoint could be different from her own and provide insights that she might not otherwise have considered.
‘Where are we up to with the post mortem on the female victim?’ said Sharp, casting his eyes around the room for an answer.
Gavin raised his pen in the air. ‘Lucas says it’ll be tomorrow morning now, guv. Bit of a backlog, he says. Something to do with being understaffed.’
Sharp sighed. ‘Nothing changes, does it?’
No-one answered; the question was rhetorical and everyone knew how busy the small mortuary at the hospital in Dartford was, particularly with the onset of the colder months.
‘Any more news from Maidstone Hospital, guv?’ said Gavin.
‘The driver underwent further surgery this morning to pin his broken leg,’ said Sharp. ‘It’ll be a couple of days before we can question him. This’d be a good time for you to bring everyone up to speed on what we have from Harriet’s team please, Carys.’
Miles cleared her throat and rose from her seat, before standing next to Sharp. She flipped open her notebook, read a couple of lines, then raised her gaze to the waiting team.
‘Right, well first of all, there’s no record of the driver’s fingerprints being on any of the databases. Me and Gavin spent the day going through HOLMES2, and we widened our search countrywide as well – he doesn’t exist.’
‘Unusual for someone in his position to have no prior conviction or arrest,’ said Kay.
‘Maybe that’s what made him an attractive employment prospect for Demiri?’ said Barnes.
A murmur of agreement passed through the room.
‘Speaking of the driver, I’m going to arrange to have the security on his room increased immediately,’ said Sharp. ‘I’m sure our visit to Demiri will have rattled him, despite his attempts to remain cool. The last thing we want is for him to arrange for an unfortunate accident to happen to his ex-driver before we’ve had a chance to speak to him.’
He gestured to Carys to continue.
‘We also have no record for the female victim. Again, none of the fingerprints taken from her by Lucas, the pathologist, or Harriet’s team were matched by our databases, but we’ll keep digging.’
Kay could sense the frustration amongst the small group. The thought that they had Demiri in their sights, but no evidence with which to charge him was already starting to rankle.
‘Harriet did come up with something for us though,’ said Carys.
‘Hallelujah,’ murmured Barnes, and then held up his hand in apology as she lowered her notebook and glared at him.
‘Two sets of prints were taken from the steering wheel, handbrake and door handles that match a couple of blokes that have prior convictions for burglary offences. Gary Hudson and John Millard.’
‘Do we have any idea where they are now?’ said Gavin.
Barnes checked his watch. ‘It’s four o’clock. Knowing those two, we’ll find them in the pub on Union Street.’
Chapter Fourteen
Despite Carys and Gavin’s frustration, Sharp elected to let Kay and Barnes interview the two men once they’d been brought in for questioning.
‘You two aren’t known to Demiri,’ he’d said by way of explanation, and within the confines of his office. ‘I’d like to keep it that way. You’ve seen what he’s capable of doing, and the reach he has. You’ve seen what happened to Kay. I’d rather keep you at arm’s length from this until it’s absolutely necessary.’
The two detective constables had murmured their assent before Sharp had dismissed them, but Kay could sense their disappointment as they left the room, and turned to the DI once the door had closed.
‘Don’t leave them too far out of the loop, guv,’ she said. ‘I wouldn’t want them getting frustrated and then deciding to go off and try to solve this themselves.’
‘Point taken,’ said Sharp.
The three of them had then spent another twenty minutes discussing interview tactics before Kay and Barnes had made their way to the interview rooms.
‘Rock, paper, scissors,’ murmured Barnes.
Kay held up her fist.
‘Goon one it is then,’ he grinned, and pushed the interview room door open.
Duty solicitors had been assigned to each of the men, and now as Kay entered the room, the one that had been assigned to Gary Hudson rose from his chair and adjusted his tie as he stood.
‘My client denies all charges.’
‘Whoa,’ said Kay, and waved him back into his seat. ‘Settle down, we haven’t got that far yet.’
She avoided Barnes’s eyes, knowing he was itching to aim a witty retort at the eager young criminal solicitor, and instead reached over to begin the recording.
She formally cautioned the man sat in front of her, waited while Barnes settled into his seat, and then opened a folder and slid a photograph of the crashed vehicle across the table.
‘Right, Mr Hudson. This car was involved in an accident two nights ago on the M20 near Harrietsham. The driver is currently in hospital, and the body of this woman—,’ she said, pausing to slide another photograph across the table, ‘—was found in the boot of the car. Dead. Now, perhaps you could explain to me why we found your fingerprints on the vehicle.’
The young solicitor paled at the sight of the woman’s body.
Patrick, the CSI photographer, had taken a number of images from the scene of the accident, and Barnes had chosen the most shocking one he could find, in the hope it would elicit a response from the known criminal.
Hudson leaned forward, his hands in his pockets, and peered at the two photographs, then shook his head.
‘Don’t know anything about that.’
‘When did you last come into contact with the vehicle?’
Easing back into his seat, Hudson stared at Kay through hooded eyes. ‘Can’t say I recall.’
‘When was the last time you saw the vehicle?’
He shrugged. ‘Dunno. Maybe three or four months ago.’
‘Who did the vehicle belong to?’
‘Not me.’
‘That’s fine. Who did own it?’
Another shrug. ‘Not sure. I didn’t drive it. I was just a passenger in it a couple of times.’
‘A couple of times? Right, and where were you going as a passenger in the vehicle those times?’
‘Can’t remember.’
‘Who was driving?’
‘Can’t remember.’
Kay narrowed her eyes. ‘You might want to work on your recall a bit, Gary. At the present time, we’re investigating a murder.’ She tapped the photograph of the dead woman. ‘With your fingerprints on the vehicle, you’re currently a suspect in that murder.’
Hudson shrugged, his expression bored.
&n
bsp; ‘Fine,’ said Kay, and stood. ‘Interview terminated at five-fifteen. Mr…?’
‘Dundas,’ said the young solicitor.
‘We’ll be holding your client in the cells overnight pending further enquiries, Mr Dundas. We’ll be in touch when we’re ready to speak with him again. You may want to have a quiet word with him about being a bit more forthcoming with his answers, to avoid another conviction being added to his existing tally.’
The solicitor’s mouth opened and closed soundlessly as Kay and Barnes left the room.
Reaching the corridor, Kay signalled to the custody sergeant to take Hudson to the cells, and then turned to her colleague.
‘Let’s hope his friend is a bit more chatty.’
‘Let’s hope his duty solicitor looks older than twelve.’
‘Couldn’t fault his enthusiasm, though, could you? I thought he’d lit a rocket under his backside when we walked in.’
Barnes grinned, then straightened his face and pushed open the door to the second interview room.
Kay recognised the older solicitor, nodded to him, then let Barnes begin the recording and cite the relevant caution.
John Millard was another career criminal who they’d arrested time and time again over the years for vehicle theft, drug offences and the like and seemed as unimpressed as Hudson at being interviewed.
As the older detective worked through a similar set of questions and displayed the photographs from the crash scene in front of the man, Kay checked her notes against what they had learned to date.
‘Your fingerprints were found on the steering column of the vehicle, Millard,’ said Barnes. ‘Now, why would that be?’
Millard was younger than his counterpart, and not as experienced in being questioned by the police. His eyes shifted from left to right, and his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as his gaze fell to the image of the dead woman once more.
His shoulders hunched over as he moved his arms across his chest, and Kay noticed a slight trembling of his hands.
‘John, I know you’re scared, but we really need to find out what happened to this woman.’
Hell to Pay Page 5