Gallows Drop

by Mari Hannah

  Brown was first to respond. ‘My punter said it was Gardner’s house.’

  ‘Mine too,’ Robbo said.

  Gardner’s voice filled Kate’s head: Woke up on the sofa, freezing my balls off with the TV on and a mouth like a sewer . . . my usual state on a Sunday morning. ‘Well, if that’s true, why didn’t he mention it to me in interview?’ She was talking to Hank. ‘He had no way of knowing we had them all in. I assume you kept them away from each other?’

  Interviewing officers were nodding. ‘At different stations,’ someone said. ‘But they had plenty of time to work out their story immediately after the body was found.’

  Kate looked at Hank. ‘So why wasn’t Gardner hitting us with an alibi his mates were primed to corroborate?’

  ‘Because it stinks, that’s why,’ Hank said. ‘He knew fine well we wouldn’t buy it.’

  ‘No other weapons used apart from hands and feet?’ It was Maxwell who’d asked, the only team member not involved in interviewing those brought in for questioning.

  Carmichael confirmed it: no baseball bats, no sticks or knives, none that anyone had mentioned so far. On Kate’s say-so, Lisa sprang to her feet to hand out blown-up images of the stills the DCI had been studying so intently on the murder wall.

  Kate waited for her to retake her seat. ‘Take a good look at these marks on the victim’s face. Initially I thought they might have been made by a knuckleduster, even though we don’t see them used so often these days. On further examination, Su Morrissey – that’s our new pathologist, for those who don’t know – has suggested that they’re more likely to have come from metal boot eyelets. In light of the argument over who did the kicking, I’m having Collins brought in again. Both his and Liam Gardner’s footwear preferences and purchases are now top priority. I’ve spoken to Gardner. He claims he doesn’t possess any boots.’

  ‘We only found trainers at his gaff,’ Brown said.

  ‘Then search it again.’ All eyes were trained on Scotty. ‘He’s lying through his teeth. He wears cargo pants and desert boots all the time. Thinks he’s a bloody paratrooper.’

  Kate scanned the appreciative faces of her team. The murder investigation had wound up a notch.

  44

  It had been the mother of all briefings. Kate left the incident room and finally sat down in her office for a few moments of peace and quiet. She called Jo but her phone went straight to voicemail. She called Collins’ mother, asking for permission to search her house, telling her why it was important. She was in luck. The woman gave her consent without a fuss.

  Hank stuck his head round the door as she hung up.

  Kate put the phone on a desk littered with papers and Post-it notes, an untidy mess organized into piles: Urgent, Not So, Rubbish. The latter would hit the bin as soon as she had time to sift through it.

  ‘Don’t get comfy,’ she said. ‘Collins’ mother reckons he has nothing to hide. I need you to organize a search for boots at their place. Get her signature on a PACE search form while you’re at it. The Police and Criminal Evidence Act isn’t all bad.’

  ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘I’m going to get some air.’

  Without telling anyone where she was going, she left the building, drove straight to the hospital and made her way to ICU. Visiting time wasn’t due to take place for another hour, so she asked to see whoever was in charge. Seconds later, a woman in uniform walked towards her, a friendly smile on her face.

  ‘I understand you want to see me,’ she said. ‘How can I help?’

  She was taller than Kate, around six two with green eyes and blonde hair tucked neatly into a bun at the nape of her neck. Calm and unruffled, she was younger than Kate expected for someone with such an important job. Then again, she held the record for being the youngest detective in history ever to make DCI in her force area. If you wanted to reach the top in an organization as big as Northumbria Police, you had to start early.

  ‘I’m Kate, Ed Daniels’ daughter.’ She stuck out a hand. ‘How’s he doing?’

  ‘Oh. He’s not here. We transferred him to the Coronary Care Unit this morning.’

  On the ground floor, Kate rushed into the ward and collared another nurse. Introducing herself, she enquired after her father, keen to chat with him, buoyed by the rapid transfer from ICU. It was positive news. He’d died and come back to her. He was strong.

  A survivor.

  ‘He’s getting there,’ the staff nurse told her. ‘But I have to warn you, he’s not out of the woods yet. He’s a lucky man. Had there been any delay in getting him here, he might never have made it. He’s been monitored closely overnight and the duty cardiologist will see him again later.’

  ‘I understand.’

  ‘Don’t worry. He’s in the best of hands.’

  ‘Thanks.’ They stood aside as a patient was wheeled onto the ward, far too young to be having heart problems. Kate turned her attention back to the nurse. ‘I know I’m too early for visiting but I happen to be in the middle of a murder investigation.’ She showed ID. Proof that she wasn’t trying to pull a fast one. ‘Is it possible to see my father for a few minutes? I won’t stay long. I wouldn’t ask, but we’ve not spoken since he came in. I was here last night, only he was unconscious, asleep anyway. It would help a great deal if I could call in whenever I can slip away. It’s impossible to meet set visiting times.’

  ‘As long as you realize he needs lots of rest.’

  ‘Of course.’

  The nurse nodded. ‘We can be flexible up to a point. He’s in a private room so your visits won’t disturb other patients. Most of them are very poorly.’

  ‘A private room?’ Kate repeated. ‘He asked for that?’

  ‘Your sister wouldn’t have it any other way. In fact, she insisted. The problem is, we sent him for tests. He might be a while. If you like, I could ring down and see how long. If he’s already been seen, although I doubt that, he may be waiting for a porter to bring him back.’

  ‘No, it’s fine.’

  Kate glanced over her shoulder, wondering if Jo was still around. It was so like her to take charge and not mention it, to do right by Ed, even though she fell woefully short of his expectations. Perfect partner material she was not. She didn’t fit the profile in any way. Kate wished her father would just get over it. She felt unworthy of Jo. They should be on the east coast of Scotland by now. Getting to know each other all over again. A new beginning. That had been the plan.

  ‘If you’re looking for your sister, she just left,’ the nurse said.

  ‘Oh,’ Kate played along. ‘I tried calling. She’s not answering.’

  ‘She said she’d be a couple of hours. She was here at dawn, so I imagine she’s gone home for a rest. I told her your father’s tests would take time. There was no point hanging around. Without being unkind, she looks like she could do with a break. She’s very considerate, your sister.’

  ‘Yes, she is . . .’

  Unlike me.

  Kate considered telling her that Jo was no relation, but had neither the time nor the inclination to get into it. She glanced at her watch. It was almost one o’clock. She couldn’t afford to hang around. ‘I’ll try and get in later. When my father returns to the ward, will you tell him I’ve been in, please?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  Taking a business card from her pocket, Kate handed it over. ‘Call me if there’s anything you’re concerned about, or if he asks for me.’

  He probably won’t.

  Thanking her, Kate walked away. The chances of her old man asking to see her were zilch. He’d know how concerned she’d be for his well-being. No doubt he’d be waiting for her to make the first move. He was a stubborn git sometimes.

  Visiting times were different on Beth’s ward. Kate was making her way upstairs to see her when her mobile rang. Pulling it from her pocket, she saw that it was Hank and sat down halfway up with a view through the window over the busy car park. People were flooding in to visit sick r
elatives.

  She hated hospitals.

  Kate lifted the phone to her ear. ‘Tell me you found matching boots?’

  ‘We found boots at Collins’ place. Several pairs. Whether they match Elliott’s injuries or not is open to question. Su Morrissey will be in touch.’

  ‘What do you want then?’

  ‘Hey! We may be divorced. Doesn’t mean I don’t miss you.’

  Kate laughed.

  In Spain, while hunting a fugitive, they had gone undercover, pretending they were married. It was an easy deception to pull off, given their propensity for falling out. An image of him arriving on their hotel balcony wearing a ridiculous Hawaiian shirt, a pair of knee-length pink shorts, Jesus sandals and socks jumped into her head.

  Hilarious.

  The socks were so he couldn’t feel the sand between his toes, a phobia she didn’t know about. She liked nothing better. The memory of that case had stuck with her, cementing their relationship in a way no other had. They had grown closer, the difference in rank fading away to nothing. Professionally, they had always been great together. The experiences they shared in those short few weeks had altered the dynamic forever.

  The door from the stairwell above opened and swung shut.

  A middle-aged woman with a head wound and a black eye appeared. Already reeking of nicotine, she was fumbling with a fag packet as she walked down the stairs, keen to get outside for another hit. Shuffling to one side, so as not to block her access and prevent a swift escape, Kate smiled at her. She could do with a cigarette herself.

  ‘Don’t suppose you’ve found a lighter?’ the woman asked.

  ‘No, sorry.’

  The patient practically ran down the stairs to the floor below. The door to the grounds creaked as she pulled it open and did the same as she let it go.

  Hank had overheard. ‘You still in the station?’

  ‘Hospital.’

  ‘Is that a good idea?’

  He’d be furious if he knew why she was really there. ‘It’s an idea,’ she said. ‘Whether it’s a good one or not depends on the outcome.’

  ‘How’s Beth?’

  ‘I’ve not seen her yet.’ I’ve not seen anyone yet. ‘She was admitted to the assessment unit as an emergency measure. Had she not been pregnant, she’d most probably have been treated and shown the door. This morning a decision was taken to transfer her to maternity for monitoring. I assume to remind her that she’s carrying a child and has a lot to live for.’

  ‘The baby survived?’

  ‘So far.’

  ‘Can I give you a piece of advice?’

  ‘You’re going to anyway.’ Kate knew what was coming.

  ‘Don’t get involved.’ It was a good call, if a little predict able.

  ‘I’m already involved, Hank. I was there, remember.’

  ‘Then be sure you ask Atkins before you visit. Don’t make yourself a target for him to shoot at.’

  ‘Yeah, yeah.’ Hank was right. No point aggravating the Angry Man. If she were to interview Beth without his permission he’d only make an issue of it – another reason to have a go at her. He lived less than five miles away. It wasn’t as if she’d have to go out of her way to consult with him. ‘You win,’ she said. ‘I’ll swing by his house and ask nicely if it’ll make you feel better. Can I go now?’

  ‘Want me to meet you there?’

  ‘No, Hank, I need you at the station in case there are any developments. I promise I’ll leave if he starts. Is Collins in custody yet?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Good. Keep the pressure on him and Gardner’s mob. See if you can’t get his mates to drop themselves in it. I don’t believe they hung out with him on Saturday night. I suspect we already have our offender in the cells – we just have to prove which one – but if you’re scratching for stuff to do after that, contact the military police. Adam Foster needs to be alibied – and I feel bad that we haven’t yet given our condolences.’ Kate hung up and headed for her car.

  45

  The DCI drove out of the hospital, turning left and on through Ashington, an area proud of its mining heritage, as demonstrated by the eye-catching brass sculpture of a pitman to be found en route to the market town of Morpeth. Atkins’ home was only a short drive through open countryside, around five miles away. With any luck, he’d be so hung over he’d give permission for her to talk to Beth. It would save him the trouble of doing it himself. A difficult task for him . . .

  He wasn’t exactly socially skilled.

  Ten minutes later, she arrived at Atkins’ apartment block.

  At the entrance, she rang hard on the buzzer next to his name. Either he wasn’t in or he’d seen her arrive and wasn’t answering. Leaving the premises, she walked to the municipal library where she’d left her Audi, popping the doors open as she walked to the car. She was about to get in when two men caught her eye.

  Without waiting for the lights to change, they pelted across the road.

  Kate watched them head along Bridge Street for a few metres and into Shambles, a pub and restaurant.

  Maybe . . .

  Pressing her key fob again, Kate relocked her car. Following the men, she entered the pub. They were already ordering. Three other customers were standing with their backs to the bar, their eyes glued to a flat-screen TV showing Sky Sports on the opposite wall. Next to them, Atkins too was on his feet, turned the other way, staring into an empty pint glass, a newspaper spread out in front of him. His posture told her that he was incapable of reading the print. She made her way over to him and leaned on the counter. The popular free house was always busy.

  Sensing her gaze, he looked up. ‘What do you want?’

  His voice was like gravel. It reminded her of Hank’s on occasions when he’d been to the match and had been yelling too much. If you were a frustrated Newcastle supporter you did a lot of that. Atkins was dressed in the same kit he’d worn yesterday. She imagined he’d been drinking all night and hadn’t been to bed.

  ‘Thought I might find you here,’ she said. ‘Have you got a moment?’

  ‘Shove off.’ He tapped the glass. ‘Put another in there, Terry.’

  The landlord didn’t look happy to serve him. Kate thought he might refuse. Then he acquiesced, as if arguing with Atkins was more bother than it was worth. She knew the feeling. Picking up a fresh glass, the man held it under the Moretti beer tap and took hold of the lever, ready to pull a pint.

  ‘Second thoughts,’ Atkins said. ‘Make it a Grouse, a double.’

  Taking his hand away, the landlord picked up a stainless steel measure and threw Kate a half-smile. ‘You too? You look like you could do with one.’

  ‘She doesn’t,’ Atkins said. ‘I’m choosy who I drink with.’

  Embarrassed, the landlord apologized with his eyes.

  Kate sent a silent message in return: He’s a dick. Don’t worry about it. Somehow, she didn’t think the landlord needed telling. He’d probably had dealings with Atkins before. Turning his back on them, the guy lifted his measure to the whisky optic. He pushed twice, asking Atkins if he wanted anything to go with it.

  What he meant was to dilute it.

  Atkins told him, no.

  ‘You want ice?’

  A morose shake of the head was all the reply he got.

  ‘Can we sit down?’ Kate glanced into a room at the rear of the pub. It was fairly quiet, save for a family of four who were eating. ‘There are things we need to discuss.’

  ‘I’m stopping here.’ Atkins sunk his whisky in one mouthful without taking unfriendly, bloodshot eyes off the man behind the bar. Pushing the glass towards him, he asked for another. Hell-bent on getting shitfaced. Kate knew there wasn’t a damned thing she could to do to stop him, but she had to try.

  The shake of her head was barely visible, a gesture to the landlord to hold the order.

  Atkins glared at him. ‘Terry? Fill it up!’

  ‘Take it easy,’ Kate hissed.

  ‘What for?’
>
  ‘There are bairns in the back room,’ she said.

  He yawned widely, giving her a view of his wisdom teeth.

  In his mouth they were just teeth.

  ‘OK, drink yourself stupid then. That’s going to do Beth a lot of good. How is she – if I’m allowed to ask?’

  ‘She’s conscious. That’s something, I suppose.’

  ‘You’ve been in this morning?’

  ‘What do you take me for?’

  ‘So why are you here?’

  ‘I’m fucking celebrating! She’s made it crystal clear she doesn’t want me around.’

  You reap what you sow, mate.

  Kate held that thought. He was supposed to be the grown-up, the responsible parent, not the petulant child. ‘I meant medically. How is she medically?’

  ‘Sore from having her stomach pumped. What do you expect? Why the hell do you care?’

  Kate did care – and well he knew it. Fleetingly, she considered her own medical emergency; whether or not her father would make a full recovery or experience another coronary before surgery. An ever-present threat, she supposed. She wondered about the tests he was undergoing, if the prognosis had altered in light of the results. Atkins was mumbling about the very thing in her head: organ damage.

  ‘They didn’t find any, did they?’

  ‘Fortunately not.’

  ‘And the baby?’

  He didn’t answer.

  ‘You didn’t ask?’ she said.

  ‘I will, soon as she gets home.’

  ‘Unbelievable!’ Whether to serve another customer, out of discretion, or to take himself out of the firing line, the barman moved away. Kate kept her voice to a whisper. She moved in close, right in his face. ‘Your only daughter tries to take her own life and you bury your head in alcohol and don’t ask whether her unborn child has suffered any permanent damage? How could you be so bloody insensitive?’

  ‘Don’t lecture me. It’s a family matter.’

  ‘That’s right, it is. You’re going to be its fucking granddad!’

  ‘That’s nowt to do with you.’