by Keith Nixon
The immediate area was popular with winos and derelicts, indicated by the sand strewn with rubbish: bottles, cans, cigarette ends, and the odd syringe. The beach area had been cordoned off down to the water, as far as the harbour wall one way, and a couple of hundred yards to the other, towards the mothballed beach fairground. Uniform were combing the area picking up every item and putting it into a bag in case it proved to be evidence.
Graffiti was daubed on the wall, and the air reeked of urine and stale alcohol. There were, however, none of the local colourful characters in sight.
Gray squatted down for a closer look at Khoury’s left arm. It was bound by a tourniquet, and a needle was shoved in one vein, the plunger fully depressed. By Khoury’s right hand was the remaining drug paraphernalia — lighter, foil, and wrap of narcotics.
“Overdose,” said Fowler unnecessarily.
“Convenient.”
“Who cares?”
I do, thought Gray but kept his opinion to himself. His phone buzzed, and he pulled it out; it was a text from the solicitor, Stratham. Gray read it and realised loose ends were being tied up. For him too.
He rang the Lighthouse. Kelvin answered.
“Is Rachel there?” asked Gray.
“Sure, I’ll get her.”
“Hello?” said Rachel.
“It’s DS Gray, can we talk?”
“I was hoping you’d ask.”
***
“What is it supposed to mean?” whispered Rachel.
“I haven’t a clue,” Gray replied.
The Turner Contemporary was a modern art gallery a few hundred yards down the hill from the station and a short drive from the Lighthouse. The exhibit in question was a lacquered branch lying on a mattress. The artist was local-girl-done-good, Tracey Emin.
But they weren’t here for the art. Gray led Rachel into a darkened room with several rows of benches. There was a film on a loop playing against one wall. At this time of day, the gallery was almost empty. At the front was a couple, wearing headphones to hear the commentary, but there was nobody else in earshot.
Gray and Rachel sat as far away from the pair as possible and kept their voices low.
“Thanks for agreeing to meet me here,” Rachel said.
“No trouble.”
“Did you find any record of Noble meeting with Carslake?”
“No,” admitted Gray. “You should know that Adnan Khoury, has been found dead.”
Rachel put a hand to her mouth. “How?”
“We’re yet to confirm for sure but it seems he took an overdose.”
“Oh my God, that’s awful. Poor man.”
“I’m struggling to understand your relationship with your mother.”
“What do you mean?”
“After what happened, what she did, you somehow seem to be close. It must have been hard.”
Rachel paused for a moment. The film had ended, and the couple moved outside, leaving Gray and Rachel alone. She appeared to sag. “I hate her for what she did, but she’s the only family I have left. I’m trying to make it work. Of course it’s not easy. She’s not easy.”
“In what way?”
“It’s difficult to explain. I guess I’m never sure if she’s telling the truth or spinning me a line. The thing is, Sergeant Gray, I’ve been alone for a long time. At first, once I’d got over the anger, I was just over the moon at having my mother back. She couldn’t replace Dad or Jonathan, but it had to be better than nobody, right?”
“Yes.” Gray understood exactly what Rachel meant. “What about Cameron? Jake told me earlier he’s the father.”
Rachel rubbed her belly again. She smiled. “We met when we were kids.”
“I know; I saw a photo of you two, outside the Sunset that night.”
“It was stupid really, trying to reclaim a lost love. How could it work after everything we’ve both been through?”
“So you’re not together now?”
“No. We tried, and this little miracle I’m carrying is because of those efforts, but we split up after a couple of months. There’s too much baggage between us, too much time. If the fire hadn’t happened, who knows?”
“What was Cameron and Regan’s relationship like?”
“Regan wanted to be Cam’s big brother, but Cam couldn’t even stand being in the same room as him. He loathed Regan.”
“Why?”
“He’s never said, but I think it was to do with me. It was something else that came between us. His constant anger about the past.”
“Talking about the past, when we spoke the other day you said your mother used to wear wigs?”
“Yes.”
“What about now?”
“No, she sticks with the same old hair colour now. Although, I did see one in her flat recently. I was surprised to be honest.”
“What colour was it?”
“Blue.”
Gray grabbed Rachel’s arm. “Was Natalie at the Lighthouse when you left?”
“Yes, why? What’s the matter?”
But Gray didn’t answer. Walking quickly, he left Rachel in the projection room and pulled out his mobile.
“Where did you get to?” asked Fowler, sounding annoyed. “You just cleared off.”
“Not now, Mike! I need you to get over to the Lighthouse and bring Natalie Peace in for questioning. Now.”
“On what charge?”
“The murder of Regan Armitage.”
Chapter 50
Cameron Armitage was at the mobile home site, in the bar, wiping down the tables. He didn’t acknowledge Gray’s entrance.
“I guess you won’t be doing this for much longer,” said Gray. “Now you’ve sold EAP to Millstone. How much were you offered?”
Cameron didn’t pause in his task. “That’s private business.”
“Was this the plan all along? Get your father out of the way, then sell his assets? As the sole director of the business now, you have the right to do so. Your father incapacitated and Regan dead.”
“EAP had financial difficulties already and Jake being charged has panicked our suppliers and partners. I decided it was worth taking the cash now, while we still can.”
“This is just a sideshow though, isn’t it, Cameron? The money’s simply a bonus. Really, this is about payback.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Sergeant.”
“You hated Regan because he took something from you — Rachel. The fire he set at the Sunset all those years ago drove you two apart. You tried to get back together again, but it didn’t work. Because of Regan. So you wanted revenge. And you had the perfect partners to help pull it off: McGavin wanted EAP, and Natalie wanted Jake to suffer. Your father was caught in a pincer movement between you two.
“Regan was a player. I bet he thought the idea of sleeping with your ex-girlfriend’s mother would grate on you. But what he didn’t realise, was that he was the one being played. Some ketamine went into his drink, and he was bundled out of the club, insensible. Then he was loaded into a vehicle and taken to Ramsgate harbour, put aboard Larry Lost’s boat, and dumped at sea, making it look like he was running migrants on the side and drowned in the process. How am I doing?”
“Very inventive. Where’s your proof?”
“We’ve plenty of circumstantial evidence already, and Natalie’s in custody and talking.” Gray didn’t know if this were true, but neither would Cameron. He didn’t respond, though. “You’re in deep shit, Cameron. Killing your brother, framing your father.”
“This is bullshit.”
Gray read Cameron his rights.
Chapter 51
McGavin’s restaurant was full, but the man himself was nowhere in sight. A waiter pointed Gray towards the kitchen where McGavin was looking over the menu for the day.
“Ah, Sergeant Gray, come to take me up on my offer?”
“Just the opposite, McGavin. Your offer is refused.”
“I’m confused. What are you wittering on about?”
“I got a text earlier, from a friendly solicitor. Cameron was selling EAP over to Millstone in its entirety. For an excellent price. For you. We’re talking past tense though now. I thought you should hear from me first that Cameron has been arrested. The deal’s off.”
“I’ve already told you, Millstone is nothing to do with me.”
“Everything is down to you. Your fingermarks are all over it. I know you had Noble murdered.”
“Perhaps you should give up your job and write a book. Fiction, of course, because that’s what this is.”
“Not before I’ve put you away.”
“You have nothing. Otherwise you’d have the cuffs on already.” McGavin forced another smile.
“One day, McGavin. One day soon.”
“I look forward to it, Sergeant. Now, get out of my restaurant.”
Chapter 52
The room was a rectangle. On one side was an examination table, and in the opposite corner Doctor Kahn’s desk faced the wall.
Gray settled into one of two seats next to the desk. Kahn — a thirty-something Asian woman already turning grey, with small, serious features– twisted in her seat to face him. The surgery was one of those where you could end up seeing any of the GPs. Gone were the days of being allocated a single physician who you saw forever more.
Kahn started with the standard question. “What prompted you to come see me?”
“I’ve been sick several times. Most recently there was blood.”
Kahn made a note on her pad. “Any other symptoms?”
“I’ve been finding it hard to swallow when eating. Also heartburn.”
“How long for now?”
“Three, maybe four weeks.”
“Is there anything which makes your symptoms better or worse?”
Gray considered that. “I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about it. Milk helps ease the heartburn, but otherwise I assumed it was bad food or irritable bowel syndrome.”
“Do you smoke?”
“Some, I’ve been cutting back.”
“Drink alcohol?”
“Same answer.”
“How recently have you been reducing your intake?”
“A few months now, which is why I thought this was linked to a lifestyle change.”
“Okay, I’d like to take some blood, then examine you.”
“I hate needles,” said Gray.
“It’s necessary, I’m afraid.”
Reluctantly, Gray agreed.
“Would you prefer to lie down?” asked Kahn.
“Yes.”
He shrugged off his jacket, rolled up his right sleeve, and lay on the examination table. As Kahn tightened a strap around his upper arm just above the elbow, Gray twisted his head away and covered up his eyes with his left arm as if he were a weeping angel. Kahn tapped on a vein.
“You’ll feel a sharp scratch,” she said.
This time Gray kept his comments to himself. Without further warning the needle pushed through his skin and then the vein. Gray grimaced and sucked in half a lungful of air through his teeth.
“Thank you, Mr Gray. Just stay there a moment please.”
Gray did as he was told while Kahn returned to her desk and tapped at her computer. When she’d finished she turned to face him. “I’m going to urgently refer you to a specialist at the hospital for an endoscopy. The symptoms you’re displaying concern me sufficiently — weight loss, the reflux, the difficulty in swallowing — and the period of time you’ve been suffering for. By then we should have the bloods back.”
“What do you think it could be?”
“Any number of causes are possible.”
Gray considered what the doctor was saying. “It’s cancer, right?”
“Not necessarily. At this stage I’d really try not to worry. Your symptoms could equally be due to Barrett’s oesophagus, where the cells around the oesophagus are weakened. Or any number of other things. My referral is a precautionary measure. Any further questions?”
“I can’t think of any right now.”
At reception, Gray gave them his mobile number, then he was outside and wondering what the hell he could do, other than go home.
***
Gray opened up the floor-to-ceiling windows to let in some air into his flat. He stood staring out over the water for a few minutes, seeing nothing. In the two days since Cameron and Natalie’s arrest the case had changed completely. The charges over the Sunset fire against Jake had been dropped, and he’d been released, but Hamson was gathering evidence regarding Regan’s alleged sexual assaults, and Jake’s possible collusion in a series of cover-ups.
Cameron had been charged with murder, but was remaining silent. Natalie’s charge was accessory to murder. Gray had heard from Fowler that she was co-operating fully with his colleagues. It seemed her motive had simply been to destroy Jake, to publicly tear his life apart, raze everything he’d built to the ground.
The murder of William Noble remained open. Privately, the police believed he’d died at the hands of McGavin because Noble was digging into Millstone, but without the evidence it was another unsolved.
Right now, Gray felt as low as was possible. He was coming to accept Carslake had lied to him and probably had for years. Though it was tough to accept. Hamson had been right all along, but their friendship was broken, perhaps beyond repair.
This morning Gray had received an email from Inspector Morel in Calais. He couldn’t find any record of a child with Tom’s description coming through the port. The Dover witness probably never existed in the first place. Gray had to accept it was all a subterfuge from Carslake to put him off. But why?
Gray decided to have a beer. If he had cancer, then what the hell. His mobile rang as he was reaching for a bottle. “Hello, Rachel.” He was surprised to hear from her.
“Afternoon, Sergeant Gray.” She sounded tired.
“Sol, please. How are you?”
“Worn out, but I feel brilliant. I don’t really have anyone else to tell so I rang you, I hope that’s all right. My baby arrived last night.”
“Congratulations!” Gray was genuinely pleased for her. “Boy or girl?”
“A little boy. I’ve decided I’m going to call him Thomas.”
Gray’s heart lurched, but it could only be coincidence. Gray had never discussed his private life with her. “Good choice, I’ll come see you later, okay?”
“I’d like that.” Gray heard Thomas cry in the background. “I’ve got to go, Sol. He’s a hungry one.”
Holding his mobile, Gray realised a massive error of judgement. All these years he’d been chasing the past, seeking the missing, pining for the dead, when there was someone here who’d needed him. Someone Gray had abandoned, like Natalie had abandoned Rachel. He’d been a fool and worse. But at least he could try to undo his errors.
Gray pulled out his laptop. He entered Facebook Messenger, typed out his daughter’s name, and wrote her a note. A moment later a speech bubble and three bouncing dots appeared.
She was typing.
Her reply seemed to take forever, but when they appeared the words sent Gray’s heart soaring. “Hi Dad, I’ve missed you.”
Despite everything, maybe there was a future after all.
Teaser
BOOK THREE IN THE DETECTIVE
SOLOMON GRAY SERIES …
by Keith Nixon
Jeff Carslake’s mobile rang. His spare, the pay-as-you-go, the one only a handful of people had the number to. He stared at the number, not recognising it. A landline. But it had to be somebody Carslake knew. He didn’t trust giving his details to just anyone.
“Hello?”
“Hello, yourself.”
“Who is this?” asked Carslake. The voice was familiar, the memory distant.
“You mean after all this time you’ve forgotten me? Now that’s just plain rude.”
The caller’s tone was playful, amused.
“It’s been a long day.”
“Well,
we can make our acquaintance again soon, Chief Inspector Carslake, because I’ll be getting out.”
“Out?”
“From where you put me. This time you can’t stop it happening. The wheels of justice are in motion. Slowly, mind, so it’ll be a few months before we shake hands again. I just thought you’d like to know.”
A memory was stirring within Carslake. “Duncan?”
“The one and only Duncan Usher. I knew you wouldn’t let me down. Well, not again anyway.”
“You’re being released?”
“That’s what I said. I’ll be coming home. First person I’ll be having a word with is Solomon Gray. He’ll be very interested in what I have to say.”
“What about?” asked Carslake, though he already knew the answer.
“His lad, Tom, of course. I’ll be seeing you soon, Jeff. And it’s not going to be pretty. Count on it.”
Carslake cut the call. He threw the phone on his desk. He’d be getting rid of it, now it was compromised. Carslake was taken aback. Duncan Usher was getting out of prison, and he hadn’t had a clue. He and Usher agreed on one point.
It wasn’t going to be pretty.
What happens when DS Gray uncovers the ugly truth? Look out for book three in the Detective Solomon Gray series by Keith Nixon.
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