Minds That Hate

by Bill Kitson

  ‘What have you in mind? Apart from what you’re doing with your hand.’

  ‘In the history of politics, every great cause had at least one martyr. I believe the time is right for us to create ours.’

  ‘You mean?’

  ‘With careful stage management, the deed can be ascribed to our enemies. Frank will become the victim of those who are afraid of his philosophy. In his death, he’ll do our cause the world of good. Whilst mourning our brave colleague, we’ll point out that it was his courage in speaking out that was responsible for his callous assassination. It will be up to us to carry on the struggle in his memory. There, what do you reckon?’

  ‘That’s genius, Carl; fucking genius.’

  ‘No.’ He rolled over until he was on top of her. ‘This is fucking genius.’

  Much later, as they ate a leisurely meal, she asked, ‘How will you arrange it?’

  ‘A shooting, I think. It’s traditional, particularly in America. Who are we to fail to uphold a noble tradition?’

  The cold-blooded cynicism with which Rathmell was discussing a man’s murder would have appalled many. Gemma found it overwhelmingly sensual. But then she’d already lost everything to him, given him all she had. Many years ago, she’d stepped across that divide and entered his dark world. There was no way back, even if she’d wanted to return: which she didn’t.

  ‘Is that all you’ve got planned?’

  ‘Not quite. This lawless element in our midst will stop at nothing. When our colleague’s brutal murder is being investigated, the officer in charge of the investigation will get too close to the perpetrators. These scoundrels will stop at nothing to avoid being brought to book. Even to the extent of killing a high-ranking police officer. A detective inspector, no less.’

  ‘Nash? Are you really worried by him?’

  ‘I wasn’t, until he turned up here this afternoon. He asked me a couple of banal questions.’

  ‘So what’s to worry about?’

  ‘He was asking about Tucker. Said he’d found my number in Tucker’s mobile. That was when I realized how dangerous Nash is. And how much he might have found out.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘The reason I think Nash is dangerous –’ Rathmell reached into his pocket ‘– is because this is Tucker’s phone.’

  Chapter nineteen

  When Nash returned, Mironova was filling in forms. She glanced up. Nash looked brighter than she’d seen him for a while. ‘You look as if you’ve had a good afternoon.’

  ‘I have, and I’m looking forward to an enjoyable evening.’

  ‘Oh yes, what’s her name?’

  Nash smiled. ‘I’m taking Becky Pollard to dinner.’

  Clara whistled. ‘You’d better be careful, or you’ll feel the wrath of God.’

  ‘I said I was taking her to dinner, not to bed.’

  ‘With you, there never seems to be much difference.’

  ‘If you’ll stop making offensive comments about my personal life, I’ll tell you what happened this afternoon.’

  ‘They may be offensive but they’re accurate.’

  ‘Do you want to hear or not?’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘I went to see Rathmell. I made up some lame tale about finding his number on Tucker’s mobile. I asked a couple of meaningless questions and left.’

  ‘What was the point?’

  ‘I wanted to see if Rathmell would get rattled. He’s intelligent enough to know there had to be more to my visit. And if he was involved in Tucker’s murder, he’d know we hadn’t recovered his mobile. So I parked down the lane and waited. Within half an hour he’d called a meeting. And very interesting personnel attended it too.’

  ‘Such as?’

  Nash told her.

  ‘That confirms your suspicions.’

  ‘That’s not all. When Viv took over, I went shopping like I said.’

  ‘What did you buy?’

  ‘Nothing, but I got some very interesting information.’ Nash related his experience.

  ‘What made you think of that?’

  ‘Something I saw at Rathmell’s house.’

  ‘That’s proof, surely?’

  ‘No, it isn’t. Not in itself. It might prove useful as circumstantial evidence, but no more. We need to find something else. That’s why I want that search warrant.’

  ‘It’ll be here in the morning. Do you want Vickers present?’

  ‘I think so. We can’t leave anything to chance. We still don’t know what we’re looking for.’

  When Becky returned from work, she found a message from Nash on her voicemail explaining he was running late. She decided to phone her godmother. ‘Aunt Gloria, I want to ask you about Mike. You said he was looking for a substitute. What did you mean?’

  ‘Tell me why you’re asking.’

  ‘He’s invited me for dinner.’

  ‘Oh, I hoped this wouldn’t happen. Mike Nash is one of the nicest, most charming people you’re likely to meet. Unfortunately, a lot of women have fallen for that charm. I’m not saying he’s the sort to go in for one-night stands and I think when he enters a relationship he intends it to last. That never seems to happen. I believe that’s because he’s constantly searching for a replacement.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Part of my job is to know all about my officers. Nash is an exceptional detective. He met a girl during the course of an investigation soon after he came here. She got badly injured, ended up in a wheelchair. Later, by tragic coincidence, she was attacked and died. You remember that big human trafficking case?’

  ‘Yes, now you mention it.’

  ‘Anyway, Mike took it very badly.’

  ‘You’re saying he’s more sinned against than sinning?’

  Her aunt laughed. ‘I’d hardly put it that way. What I’m trying to say is, don’t get too involved. Nash may start out with all the right intentions, but it’s highly likely to turn sour. Anyone who gets entangled with him will have to fight against ghosts. The ghosts of his failed relationships.’

  ‘Thanks for the warning, Aunt Gloria. I’ll be careful.’

  ‘Of course, if all you’re looking for is companionship, to put it politely, that’s an altogether different matter.’

  ‘I don’t think I’m looking for anything in particular.’

  ‘In that case I don’t see the point in this call.’

  Becky put the phone down and went for a shower. As she was dressing, she found herself humming a tune. It was a few moments before she realized it was the theme from Ghostbusters.

  When Nash arrived, Becky opened her door and peered out, looking for his car. He interpreted her glance. ‘I hope you don’t mind walking? That way I can have a drink. I’ll get you a taxi later.’

  ‘Don’t mind a bit, as long as it stays fine.’

  ‘Where would you like to go? The choice is between Italy, India, China or Mexico.’

  ‘Mexico, I think.’

  ‘Very well, the Aztlan restaurant it shall be.’

  ‘Do you know where the name comes from?’

  Nash explained.

  ‘How do you know all that?’

  Nash smiled. ‘I asked Chico, the owner.’

  ‘Is he Mexican?’

  ‘Not unless Barnsley is an outpost of the Aztec empire. He researched it on the internet. If he comes to talk to us, don’t laugh.’

  ‘Why would I?’

  ‘He’s got the worst Mexican accent imaginable. He sounds like a cross between Speedy Gonzales and Manuel the waiter.’

  ‘You seem cheerful tonight. I take it you’ve had a good day?’

  ‘Partly that –’ Nash turned to smile at her ‘– but mainly the company.’

  The meal was good, better than she’d expected. As Nash put it, ‘More spice than fire,’ which suited her perfectly. They talked little until their dessert, when Becky confessed she was being pressured into providing copy for the Gazette about the Tucker killing and the arrests made by He
lmsdale CID. ‘I’m in a bit of a bind. I promised not to write anything until you gave me clearance. But I’m not sure how long my editor’s going to remain patient. He’s already threatening to put someone else on the story.’

  ‘Tell him to be patient – the story will be an exclusive, and it’ll be the best scoop the paper’s ever had.’ Nash thought for a moment before adding, ‘Tell him it’ll be a fitting memorial to Tucker.’

  ‘Can you say anything more? Off the record, of course.’

  ‘I’m going to Grove Road tomorrow. I must find that missing evidence, if it exists. I’ve got a theory as to who killed Tucker and why. But all the evidence is circumstantial. If I can’t get enough to make a murder charge stick, the whole thing could become very messy.’

  ‘What do you mean by circumstantial evidence?’

  ‘I can’t tell you that. Not yet anyway. Put it this way, what I’ve found out points away from Vickers. But it’s more complicated than I thought. Far more complicated.’

  The evening light had faded during their dinner. They emerged from the Aztlan into a fine, warm, starlit night. Despite her protests Nash insisted on walking her home. ‘This town is far too dangerous at present for a woman to walk around in darkness alone.’

  Becky gave in. Her protests had only been half-hearted anyway. As they walked, Nash held her hand. She was mildly surprised but certainly not unhappy with this arrangement. They walked slowly, but all too soon for Nash’s liking they were outside her door.

  ‘Do you want to come in for coffee?’

  Nash hesitated. He thought of her godmother. He thought of all the reasons he shouldn’t. ‘Just coffee,’ he said.

  ‘Just coffee,’ she repeated, as firmly as she’d said ‘just dinner’.

  She was waiting for the kettle to boil when Nash slipped his arms round her from behind. She turned to face him. He kissed her, gently at first then with increasing fervour. After a moment she pulled away, put a restraining hand on his chest. ‘No, Mike. Not yet.’

  ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean that. You look so lovely, I just couldn’t resist. I realize it’s too sudden.’

  ‘It’s not that. Well, not exactly. I want to be sure it’s me you’re kissing.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘I need to be certain you’re not kissing me and thinking of someone else. I won’t be anybody’s substitute. Not even for you.’

  ‘Ouch. I suppose I deserved that. Who’s been talking? Your godmother?’

  Becky nodded. ‘Come to me when you’ve got rid of the ghosts. When you’ve got your lost-loves out of your system. Then we’ll see.’

  ‘When I was little, if I asked for something and my mother said “we’ll see”. I always used to get it.’

  ‘Your mother was obviously a very nice woman.’ Becky leaned forward. ‘And here’s a little incentive for you.’

  Mironova had just taken her coat off when Nash entered the CID suite the following morning.‘Morning, Clara.’ He waved a sheet of paper. ‘The warrant’s arrived. As soon as Viv gets in we’ll head off for Grove Road.’

  ‘I thought you had Viv on surveillance at Rathmell’s place?’

  ‘I phoned him first thing. This is more important.’

  ‘You’re looking very sprightly. How did last night go?’

  ‘We had a very pleasant evening. And a very nice meal.’

  ‘Where did you go? Not La Giaconda, I’ll bet.’

  ‘No, we went to The Aztlan.’

  ‘And that was it? No afters? I mean, when you go out with a girl, next day you usually look like something the cat dragged in. Don’t tell me you failed? No leg over for dessert then?’

  ‘I told you – just dinner.’

  ‘You’re not chicken, are you? Afraid of what’ll happen when God finds out?’

  ‘Nothing of the sort. And stop taking the piss – it’s insubordinate.’

  ‘Bollocks! I don’t believe it. She turned you down, didn’t she?’

  ‘Clara!’

  ‘She did! She actually turned you down! You must be getting old, or losing your touch. Poor thing! It’s all downhill from now. Before long you’ll have to rely on the little blue pills.’

  ‘When you’ve quite finished, DS Mironova! Now, bugger off and fetch Vickers.’

  They arrived at Grove Road shortly after 9 a.m. As soon as they were inside, Nash signalled to Pearce to release his prisoner. ‘Clara, make sure the doors are locked and bolted. Gary, before we start I think it’s time you told us what we’re looking for.’

  ‘I told you, I don’t know.’

  ‘Who told you about it? Was it Stacey?’

  Vickers looked down. ‘Yes,’ he admitted.

  ‘I know it’s hard to talk about her, but I need you to think.’

  There was a long silence.

  ‘Gary, this is the only thing Stacey can do for you now. Do you understand? I want you to think very carefully. What did she actually say when she told you about this thing? What were her exact words?’

  ‘As far as I remember, she said it was something to use if her mother found out about us. Later on, she said she was sure her mother was on to us and that she was going to have to use it.’

  Nash shrugged. ‘Okay, we’ll do the ground floor first.’

  Pearce turned to Vickers. ‘That doesn’t give you the right to put that bloody CD player on, right?’ He saw Clara’s enquiring glance. ‘He plays ruddy Beatles albums back-to-back non-stop. Nearly drove me crazy.’

  ‘I like The Beatles,’ Vickers muttered.

  ‘That’s no reason to play them all day and all night.’

  ‘It’s got to be better than that crap music you play,’ Nash told him.

  ‘The expression’s rap music, Mike.’ Clara paused. ‘No, on second thoughts, maybe you were right.’

  It was almost 1 p.m. before they were ready to tackle the first floor. Even with four of them, Nash’s insistence that they take up the carpets made the task wearisome. ‘I propose we have a break. Viv, you go get some sandwiches.’

  The food and rest gave them renewed energy. By 5 p.m. they’d searched the upper floor. Nash and Vickers had even entered the roof void. They stopped for a drink. Their lack of success had dampened their enthusiasm.

  Nash paced up and down the hall, deep in thought. He turned to Vickers. ‘This is just a wild idea, so bear with me, but I’m going to call in somebody to help.’

  Nash got on the phone. ‘Can you pop round to Grove Road? We need your help. I’ll explain when you get here.’

  It was no more than twenty minutes later when a yellow Mini Cooper drew up outside and the doorbell rang. ‘Answer that, will you, Viv? It’ll be Becky. Clara, go with him, be on the safe side.’

  They returned in a matter of seconds. ‘Gary, you’ve met Becky Pollard before.’ Vickers nodded to the newcomer.

  ‘Becky, the reason I asked you to come round is we’ve searched everywhere, without success. I want you to walk through the house and look again for us.’

  ‘What makes you think Becky will have any more luck than we’ve had?’

  ‘Good question, Clara. I said it was a wild idea. But Stacey was studying photography. Maybe another photographer will spot something we’ve missed.’

  Becky walked slowly from room to room, looking at the photographs, followed by her interested entourage. Eventually she returned to the lounge. Over the fireplace was a large photograph. ‘Did Stacey take this?’ she asked.

  Vickers nodded. ‘It was her entry for a photographic competition. Stacey won second prize.’

  They stared at the picture. It was of a vixen suckling her cubs. ‘She must have been proud of it.’ Becky thought for a moment. ‘But why are there three copies?’

  They stared at her in silence.

  She turned to Nash. ‘There’s an identical photograph in two of the bedrooms. Different sizes, but the same subject.’

  ‘I didn’t notice,’ Nash confessed.

  ‘The ones upstairs are spare prints.
After she won the prize she had this enlarged and framed. She said she’d done it just for me. That I had to keep it, always.’ Vickers turned away so the others couldn’t see the tears in his eyes.

  ‘I see.’ Becky stepped forward and examined the photo closely. ‘The frame’s a bit heavy for the subject matter, don’t you think? Let’s take a closer look.’

  They lifted the picture from the wall, carried it through to the kitchen and laid it face down on the table. ‘Pass me a sharp knife, would you?’ Becky slid her fingers round the back of the frame. ‘I’m going to loosen the tape,’ she told Vickers. ‘I promise not to damage the picture.’

  Her actions were quick and neat. Within minutes she lifted the back-plate clear. ‘Bingo!’

  They crowded round. Inside was a second plate. Neatly fixed to it with photo mounts was a collection of smaller photos. Each was inscribed with a date, a time and a location. The couple in the shots, admittedly much younger, were instantly recognizable to everyone except Vickers. ‘That’s Gemma, but who’s that?’ Vickers pointed to the man.

  ‘No idea,’ Nash said quickly, his glance warning the others.

  Vickers continued to stare at the photos. ‘What’s so special about these? Apart from the fact that they prove Gemma was having it off with someone? Why did Stacey bother to take them and why hide them so carefully?’

  ‘We’ll borrow these. In the meantime, Viv, take Gary back to the station whilst we secure the house.’

  When Viv had left with Vickers, Clara said, ‘That’s Carlton Rathmell. Why deny you knew him?’

  ‘If Vickers found out who it was, I dread to think what he’d do. But I know why Stacey hid these. Rathmell entered politics on the back of his wife’s money. He was a fledgling MP in those days, certainly unable to withstand the scandal of a juicy divorce. Mrs Rathmell’s family are staunch Catholics. If this –’ Nash flicked a hand over the photos ‘– had come to light, his funding would have dried up overnight.’

  ‘That was then. What about now?’

  ‘The situation’s not a lot different. Rathmell’s just begun this new political initiative. Split right away from mainstream politics. If anything, he’s more vulnerable now than he was then. And in consequence even more reliant on his wife’s money. These photos were dynamite then. They’re more like Semtex now. And their existence, coupled with the ones Tucker shot, provide a very strong motive for murder. Or murders.’