Persons of Interest

by Peter Grainger

  ‘My safety? Oh my goodness, it looks as if I should be thanking him as well as apologizing.’

  Smith looked long and hard at her then, as if to say, when you’ve done with all this, we’ll continue. Eventually she blushed a little but even that did her no disfavours, and Waters hadn’t taken his eyes away from her since they had entered the room. Smith considered re-starting this after ten o’clock. At this rate, she was likely to do him more injuries in the interview room than she had on the pavement last night.

  ‘I don’t think that my remarks about your safety can come as a complete surprise, Katherine. Assuming that you had some idea about the people you were following last night, you were already in a heightened state of awareness, and that’s why you over-reacted when approached by my colleague.’

  He had her attention now – something about having her own consciousness analysed like that had interested her.

  ‘So let’s be clear. We have no wish to keep you here any longer. We certainly have no wish to charge you – unless DC Waters is thinking of bringing a private prosecution?’

  ‘No, I, no... Obviously!’

  ‘But what we do need to know is why you are continuing with a private investigation which your client, Mrs Fellowes, has asked you to end.’

  ‘OK. But may I ask why that is of any interest to you? And I’m asking professionally, not personally – I accept that you have the right to ask me, sergeant.’

  Now the little amber light was flashing. This was the voice on the answerphone of Diver and Diver – the smooth, rounded, expensively educated vowels that belied her years because she was little older than Waters. The simple received pronunciation that she had used up to now had been her version of street-talk, her idea of estuary English.

  Smith said, ‘With my rights accepted, I really think we’re getting somewhere.’

  He paused, waiting and watching to see if he really had her full attention, to make sure that the game she had been playing with Waters was over, and it seemed to be.

  ‘So, Katherine, I’ll try to answer you professionally. It is of interest to me because what has happened to the Fellowes family is part of a wider and very much ongoing police investigation. Between you, you and your brother should have realized this and backed off. Your client, Sandra Fellowes, has also told you not to continue with it, without telling you the whole reason why, and yet it seems that you have continued with it. There is no prospect of you earning anything out of this – so I ask again, why are you still involved?’

  ‘Because Mrs Fellowes was the first person to ring us up, because we didn’t have anything else to do, and we still don’t, and because it was good practice. I think that’s everything.’

  ‘Good practice?’

  ‘Yes. We all have to start somewhere. And because it was quite interesting. I don’t suppose you can remember your first case now but I’m sure that Chris can. It’s important and exciting – you want something to come of it, don’t you?’

  Smith looked at Waters, and then said to her, ‘Chris?’

  ‘Well, that’s what you called him when you asked if he was alright last night.’

  Bert Miller would have called her “A bit of a handful”. She was looking at Waters again to see how he had reacted to her using his name. It was time to bring this to an end because time, he reminded himself, was not on their side.

  ‘Katherine – the other thing I want you to tell me is what you have done since you took this ‘case’ on. Tell me everything, day by day, please.’

  The irony of it would not have been lost on Waters but Smith had somehow refrained from looking at him as she explained how, being new in the area, she had dressed herself appropriately and gone into town, visiting the pubs and getting into conversations with people who looked as if they might have the answers. Sandra Fellowes, of course, had given her the name Routh and a general idea where to look and it wasn’t so difficult to find them. It soon appeared to her, though, that some of the information was wrong in that the Routh brothers didn’t seem to be the main dealers in town any more, and that the youngest brother, Tina Fellowes’ boyfriend, wasn’t involved at all. She had considered for a while the possibility that it was all an elaborate ruse by the young couple to run away together, perhaps even to fake a kidnap to raise some money, but the friend, Sophie, to whom she had spoken twice, had convinced her otherwise. After that she had pursued the line that it was to do with rival gangs in Kings Lake, that Tina and Cameron were innocent victims, pawns in the game, she had said.

  ‘So, am I right? There are rival gangs, aren’t there?’

  ‘Yes, there are. What reason did Mrs Fellowes give you for not going on with it?’

  ‘She said that it would sort itself out, and that it wasn’t as serious as she’d thought. I didn’t believe her.’

  ‘And so you kept going because it was good practice, for when a proper case comes along.’

  ‘Partly, yes.’

  He could end it there, metaphorically smack her backside or make her sit on the naughty step for a couple more hours. It was Sunday, for goodness’ sake – they had nothing new to go on and in two days’ time the RSCU bust would blow the whole thing wide open. Shrapnel makes the most horrible injuries.

  But she had said “Partly”, and so he had to ask.

  ‘Oh, well,’ she answered, ‘I think Tina Fellowes might still be in some danger. I didn’t like the look of some of the people involved.’

  ‘Which people?’

  Smith managed a glance at his watch. Half past nine and he wanted Waters to write down something about last night before he left, if only to explain why they had ended the surveillance early. He also needed to have a word with Mike Dunn to see if anything else had happened, to get John Murray organized for tonight and to find out how Serena Butler was being kept busy in his absence.

  ‘The ones who drive the blue Lexus, for a start.’

  ‘Which blue Lexus is that, Katherine?’

  ‘The blue Lexus that they took them away in.’

  He saw Waters sit up a little straighter, and tried to keep his own tone reasonably matter-of-fact.

  ‘Are you saying that you’ve seen the car that was used in the abduction?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Do you know where it is at this moment?’

  ‘No, because I’ve been locked up for the past twelve hours. But I know where they have been parking it.’

  ‘Here in Kings Lake?’

  She nodded. Smith turned to Waters and said, ‘We need a map.’

  While he was out of the room, Smith continued with the questions.

  ‘You said you didn’t like the look of them men who are using this car. What can you tell me about them?’

  ‘Two, quite young but they look like thugs to me. Crew cuts I think is the old expression, quite swarthy and well-built. And they’re foreign, east European.’

  ‘And you know that because...?’

  ‘From when I followed them into the supermarket two days ago. I heard them talking among themselves but they used English at the till.’

  ‘You’ve been following them?’

  ‘Yes. But they didn’t go anywhere that made me think that Tina was being held there. If they had, I would have gone to the police – honestly I would.’

  Smith said faintly, ‘Oh. Good.’

  Waters came back in with a laptop. Smith was about to say ‘No, a map’ and then he saw that Lake was already on the screen. As Waters zoomed it in, Katherine Diver said, ‘So you haven’t actually found the car yet, then?’

  He could only ignore that. Instead he said to her, ‘Can you tell me how you found it?’

  ‘I didn’t really – it was Jason. He’s got this thing where you can put in the registration number and then if the camera sees it go by, it bleeps.’

  ‘The camera?’

  ‘The one he puts on the dashboard.’

  ‘The dashboard of the Ferrari?’

  She laughed and Waters looked up at her.

>   ‘No! That’s a hobby of mine, just a bit of fun! But I’ll have one eventually.’

  Smith wondered whether his growing sense of unreality would come through on the recording of the interview.

  ‘To get this straight, Katherine; your brother has accessed the national police ANPR system? If he has, I have to warn you that-’

  ‘No, he hasn’t. He’s written his own. He’s very clever with all that stuff.’

  He had to look at Waters, just to see if this was even remotely possible, and the shrug said that it might be.

  Smith said, ‘But you didn’t – you don’t and we don’t – have the whole plate. Sophie Williams could only remember some parts of it.’

  ‘I know. I kept driving around and it kept bleeping at all sorts of things. But eventually I found a car that fitted her description, and the blokes looked dodgy, so I thought it was probably the one.’

  ‘You thought it was probably the one?’

  ‘Yes. But I might be wrong, I realise that. I’m not stupid.’

  There’s no reasonable response to that, thought Smith.

  She showed them on the map where she had seen the car parked on three occasions – Harper Gardens, a square off a side-street off a back-road in the centre of the town, not ten minutes on foot from The Wrestlers if one knows the short-cuts. Had she ever seen anyone else with the two young men? The temptation to lead her towards a tattooed man was obvious but easy enough to resist. No – she had seen no-one else, and Smith thought, Bridges is no fool, not like me – I was an inch away from missing this.

  Outside in the corridor, he said to Waters, ‘We’ve got to get eyes on it as soon as possible. Mike Dunn lives in the middle of town, doesn’t he?’

  ‘He’s got a flat a few minutes’ drive from there. But I’m here, DC, so let me check it out.’

  Smith had known that was coming, he’d seen it in Waters’ face before they left the room.

  ‘No. Your old man’s already waiting downstairs, I expect. We’ll keep to the plan. But ring Mike before you go, give him the outline and say to ring me if he can do it.’

  ‘DC? I’m alright, I can do this.’

  To show some respect, Smith waited but not long – that would have looked like wavering.

  ‘No. Take a couple of days. I’ll see you on Wednesday, first thing.’

  Waters turned away because he was annoyed, but Smith had already moved on. He needed a statement from Katherine Diver before she left the building, and he had better speak to the pair of them in the presence of another officer – they had to understand the danger they were in if they persisted in what they imagined was their first case. If it came to it, if they did persist, someone could probably dream up a way of detaining them until it was over but he didn’t want that at all – senior officers and swathes of paperwork. Better if he could just scare the pants off them. He didn’t have time to sit with her while she wrote it down, so best find Olly Dennis and see if he could get someone, or there was always Rachel in the canteen...

  When he went back in, she said, ‘So am I still under arrest?’

  ‘No – I un-arrest you.’

  ‘Is that it? Isn’t there a proper procedure?’

  ‘Yes. But I’m really short of time. It’s the weekend as well, and I was hoping to get a round of golf in this afternoon.’

  She didn’t fall for it, not for a second, and he thought, never mind not stupid, you’re not even close. He told her what was going to happen – writing the statement with every detail that she could recall, and then seeing him with her brother before they left. When she asked what that was for, he told her.

  She said, ‘You don’t need to exaggerate, sergeant, I’ve got the message. You don’t want us poking about, that’s all.’

  Telling her was a risk and procedurally wrong, but that had to be weighed against another risk – that she might simply be humouring him to get out of the building and pick up where she had left off. Which risk was the greater?

  ‘The reason that Sandra Fellowes asked you to leave it alone was because they murdered her brother just over a week ago. These are the people that you’ve been following around for practice. The fact that you’re still with us is a minor miracle.’

  The habitual irony of clever disaffection slowly left her face, and what remained was younger and just for a moment more vulnerable because she could see the truth of it in his own steady gaze. She looked away and then back at him. Not beautiful, and not everyone would even have said that she was pretty but there was something compelling about her, nonetheless.

  She said, ‘OK, I really have got the message now. You don’t need to lecture us both, I can see you’ve got plenty to do. Jason will do what I tell him. Where’s the pen and paper?’

  Chapter Nineteen

  He took the backstairs up to his office so that he could look out of the window onto the carpark but there was no sign of a vehicle that might belong to Dougie Waters. The twinge of guilt was a slight one but real enough; he knew how he felt when it happened to him, as it had often enough, but Waters had another thirty years of cases ahead of him and an important decision to make. Next week there would be something new and it would all be forgotten.

  It was a moment before he recognized the back of the figure that was bending over his desk as he entered, and then Patrick Chambers straightened up and turned to face him.

  ‘Ah, DC, I was just wondering where you were.’

  ‘As you can see, Pat, I wasn’t hiding under that pencil sharpener.’

  He moved forwards, mentally noting what he had left on the desk.

  ‘Sorry – I was looking to see if you had anything about what Mike Dunn is doing tomorrow. He’s been temporarily assigned to me but now that everything’s on hold, I’m not sure.’

  ‘And you came in on a Sunday morning to find that out? I thought you were happy with being a sergeant...’

  Chambers had been smiling since Smith entered the room – now it broadened into a grin that charmed when one first met him, that palled a little after ten minutes or so and then, as far as Smith was concerned, was an expression to be avoided at all costs for the rest of the working week.

  ‘I am, DC. It was a long climb up for me but you just sort of fell into it, eh?’

  There was nothing crucial on the desk as far as he could see, and the screen was off. Presumably no harm had been done.

  Smith said, ‘As far as Mike is concerned, I’ve no idea what he’s doing next, and he doesn’t belong to me anyway, he’s one of Wilson’s. You could always ring DI Reeve if you’re desperate to know before tomorrow.’

  ‘No, you’re right, DC. I didn’t come in for that, obviously, but thought I’d look while I was here. See you in the morning.’

  When the door had closed and the steps had died away, he sat down and examined the top of the desk more thoroughly, and then the drawers to see if anything had been moved. Again, no, and there was nothing that could be of much use to anyone else, but still he felt uneasy. There was much to do in the next few minutes, and getting it into the right order was important – that was what he had to concentrate on. There would be someone senior in the incident room, and perhaps a whole gaggle of them having a working breakfast, and doing a bit of incidental networking, that’s what it’s called these days. They used to have a few less polite words for it... But if he went straight up there and gave them what Katherine Diver had just handed over without a plan of his own in place, someone else would seize it and probably strangle it. On the other hand, if he went in with a plan, just casually sort of ‘We might have found the car. I’ve got the blokes ready to go and keep an eye on it, thought I’d let you know’, he might just keep control of it a little longer.

  So all he needed was the detail for the plan – a piece of scrap paper and a pencil. Pencil for brief notes and first drafts, the old fountain pen for anything on from those. He had written down “Mike Dunn, Sunday”, when his mobile rang. It was Mike Dunn. If only he could make that happen whenever he nee
ded it to.

  ‘Mike, thanks for getting back to me. Did Waters fill you in? It’s a bit of a liberty, I know – I hope I’m not spoiling Sunday lunch.’

  ‘Pasta with sauce, DC. I find if I cook a leg of lamb for one, I’m eating it for a fortnight.’

  God, another one. Where will the police of the future come from if we’re not reproducing? He’d better tell Murray to have five more.

  ‘Alright – thanks anyway. Do you know this place, Harper Gardens?’

  ‘Yes. I’m there now, just parked up.’

  ‘Blimey, you must have been having a boring Sunday. What’ve you got?’

  ‘Just what your informant said. There’s a blue Lexus here, and the reg fits what you gave out a few days ago. I can’t see anyone about. This area is mostly flats and bedsits, so even if you saw them go in and out, you couldn’t be sure of an address. Did your woman say anything about that?’

  ‘She’s writing it down as we speak. Are you safe keeping an eye on it for now?’

  ‘Safe? As safe as it gets, I suppose. The streets are lined with cars – no reason for them to pick me out. If they move, do you want me to follow?’

  Smith thought about what he had just said to Katherine Diver, the fact that she was still alive being a minor miracle.

  ‘No, Mike, just let me know straight away. I’m trying to sort out some more bodies so we can do this properly. I’ll get back to you soon. Oh, one more thing – no need to mention this to anyone else at the moment, alright?’

  Dunn said yes as if he understood, and even if he didn’t, Smith was confident that nothing would be said. Now he needed to call John Murray and see if he could come in early; if the answer was no then it might have to be Serena Butler, but that was a ‘have to’ situation, and he admitted to himself, in the quiet of the office, that this was not one in which he would be entirely comfortable, putting a female officer in the way of thugs like these. Of course it was outdated, old-fashioned, some would say prehistoric, but the people who said all that most vociferously were not often out there doing this sort of thing – funny that. And anyway, Murray liked to keep his hand in with the heavy lifting.