The Mourner

by Susan Wilkins

  Nicci placed the stick back on the table as she pondered. ‘Guess who went to Moore’s house to see him on Thursday? Paige Hollister.’

  Kaz frowned. ‘When on Thursday?’

  ‘Afternoon I think. Why?’

  ‘Thursday night, poor old Neville was holed up in a hotel in Brighton shitting bricks. That’s when he pointed the finger at Pudovkin.’

  Nicci pursed her lips. ‘So it probably was her that warned him off. Can you get him to admit that, do you think?’

  ‘Not right now. He’s on a plane to Dubai.’

  Cradling her injured arm, Nicci sighed. ‘Okay.’ She glanced towards the memory stick. ‘Have you looked at what’s on it?’

  ‘Not yet.’ Kaz opened her mouth to say more, then hesitated.

  The ex-cop gave her a sympathetic look. ‘I’m sure it’s not going to be how you want to remember Helen.’

  ‘I just wanna nail that bastard. So let’s do it.’

  There was a laptop on the table. Nicci opened it up. Kaz uncapped the memory stick for her and she slotted it into the USB port. Kaz dragged her chair next to Nicci’s and the two women sat side by side to watch.

  The footage opened in what was obviously a hotel room. It was upmarket, modern and minimalist in design. The camera position was high up, wide-angled and it looked down on a neatly made king-sized bed. The door to the en suite appeared to be to one side of the bed. It was ajar with the light on.

  After a moment or two a figure emerged from the bathroom. Kaz felt her stomach lurch. It was Helen in a pair of brushed cotton check pyjamas. She walked round the bed and raked her fingers through her hair in characteristic fashion. It was a small, habitual gesture and it tore Kaz up like a high-velocity bullet. She gasped.

  Nicci glanced at her. ‘Want me to stop it?’

  Kaz swallowed hard and shook her head.

  On screen Helen was completing a circuit of the room and adjusting the lighting. It was subdued, but bright enough for the camera. She disappeared from view momentarily then returned, dragging a chair. Stepping up onto it her whole face loomed into the camera lens. She was checking it over. She seemed satisfied. Her head bobbed out of view and the chair was moved away.

  The sequence then cut abruptly to a new scene. Two people on the now rumpled bed – Helen was naked, face down, her cheek pressed hard against the mattress, struggling to breathe. He was on top of her, his right hand gripping the back of her neck, forcing her down as he entered her from behind.

  Distraught, Kaz shoved back her chair, got up and walked over to the window. Nicci stayed where she was, eyes glued to the screen.

  From the glimpses of the man’s profile it certainly looked like Robert Hollister. But the view was mainly of the back of his head. Nicci knew she’d have to watch all the way through to be certain.

  She pressed pause and turned to Kaz, who was staring out of the window. ‘Go and get a coffee. There’s no reason for you to look at this.’

  ‘Is it him?’

  ‘Yeah, I think so.’

  ‘Promise me that fucker is going down.’ Her voice was hoarse and menacing.

  Nicci sighed. ‘Get Rory to make you a coffee and ask Simon to come in.’

  Kaz’s face was tight with rage, she was fighting back the tears. But she followed Nicci’s suggestion.

  Putting the video on fast forward, Nicci ran through to the end of the sex. She slowed it and got the full face ID of Hollister that she needed. She listened. There was a brief conversation. Hollister seemed to be talking in a matter-of-fact way about the conference they were attending as he removed his condom. Helen said virtually nothing. She certainly looked battered and abused as she gathered up her pyjamas and put them back on. Then the screen went black.

  Blake pushed open the door. ‘She seems pretty upset. I presume we’ve got him.’

  Nicci shook her head. ‘I don’t think so. It’s not a continuous sequence, the footage has been edited. We’ve got Warner setting up the camera, then it cuts to about five minutes of rough sex. We need to check all the dialogue carefully to see if she actually says anything. But as it stands, there’s no evidence here that she refused consent.’

  92

  ‘It’s not rape? What the fuck d’you mean? I saw what that bastard was doing to her.’ Kaz was slumped on the low leather sofa in the reception area. She had a mug of coffee in one hand, which she dumped down with some ferocity on the floor. Coffee slopped out and onto the carpet.

  Nicci was standing in front of her, cradling her injured arm. Blake scooted the receptionist’s chair from behind the desk so she could sit down. Rory picked up a box of tissues and mopped up the coffee.

  Easing herself down onto the chair, Nicci sighed. ‘You saw two people having rough, quite violent sex. But to be rape there has to be a lack of consent. The bit that’s missing is her refusing her consent – saying no, I don’t want this, get off, whatever. She has to object.’

  Kaz scowled across the room at her. ‘You can see she was hating it! She could hardly breathe.’ She glared at Blake. ‘Couldn’t you see it? It didn’t look like just normal sex to me.’ Her tone became bitter. ‘But then, maybe it’s me, I’m the abnormal one, that’s the trouble, innit?’

  Blake met her eye. ‘For what it’s worth, Karen, I agree with you. It’s not normal sex. Our problem is the footage has been tampered with.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Nicci picked up the baton. ‘It starts with her checking the camera. You saw that bit. The intention was clearly to let the thing run, record whatever happened. But it cuts from that straight into the sex. Where’s him arriving? What happened before the actual intercourse?’

  Kaz’s expression remained surly. ‘You saying you think she agreed?’

  ‘No. Just the opposite. She wanted proof of an offence. So I’m sure she did object, argue, try to fight him off. She knew the law. I’m saying that it’s been edited out of the footage. The crucial bit, in terms of evidence, has been deliberately removed.’

  Kaz was clenching and unclenching her fists, just about holding it together. ‘It don’t make sense. Why would she take it out?’

  Blake’s phone buzzed with an incoming text. He glanced at it surreptitiously: Detective Superintendent Phil Slattery.

  Turning back to Kaz, he gave her a quizzical smile. ‘Maybe she didn’t. The footage has passed through various hands. We’ll get it forensically examined, see if that tells us anything.’

  His eye strayed back to the phone and the text message. So his efforts were finally bearing fruit. Channels were opening up, Thames House had informed the Yard of Pudovkin’s possible involvement and now Slattery wanted to talk to him. About bloody time!

  Kaz glared at him, she wasn’t about to let go. ‘Why would Neville Moore want to change it? Or the bloke from the Labour Party.’

  ‘That I can’t answer.’

  Nicci was watching him. He was fidgeting and she could see from the glint in his eye that the message he’d just received was important. The video clip had carried them two steps forward and one step back. The significant thing it confirmed was that Paige Hollister had played a key role in events that led to Helen Warner’s murder.

  Glancing up at Blake, she gave him a speculative smile. ‘If you need to deal with . . . that other matter.’

  He met her eye and grinned. Even injured or half-cut, Nicci never missed a trick.

  ‘If you’re sure.’ He shot a glance at Rory, then back to her. ‘But you stay safe.’

  She sighed, raised her bandaged arm. ‘It was a gang of local kids, not the Russian mafia.’

  ‘Even so.’ A curt nod to Rory, a tepid smile in Kaz’s direction and he was gone.

  Nicci got up from her chair and moved over to the sofa to sit beside Kaz. ‘You all right?’

  ‘Yeah. Peachy.’

  Instinct told Nicci not to prod any more. She shifted sideways to give Kaz some space.

  ‘Okay, let’s think this through. Helen had a plan. She’d asked advi
ce from a police officer about mounting a successful prosecution against Hollister. She went to some lengths to gather evidence. Then what?’

  Kaz picked up her mug of coffee, her face sullen. ‘It’s back to the camera, innit? What happened to it? Did she hide it or did it get nicked with the SD card in it?’

  ‘You’re right. If it got nicked, that would have alerted her to the fact someone knew what she was doing.’

  ‘Unless she told someone.’

  ‘Paige.’ A smile spread over Nicci’s features. Suddenly it all made sense. ‘Helen goes to Brussels, makes the film. Comes back, sees Paige in Glasgow. They have dinner, spend the night in the same room – so we could speculate that they were close.’ She gave Kaz a sideways glance. No reaction. ‘What was that meeting about? Maybe Paige was fed up with her husband and how he’d treated her? Helen could’ve thought Paige would support what she was doing.’

  ‘Well, she got that wrong, ’cause Paige ended up putting the frighteners on Nev.’

  ‘Perhaps that’s what the argument was about: Helen thought Paige was an ally. Turns out she wasn’t . . .’

  Rory admired the careful way Nicci was coaxing Kaz, keeping her in the loop. The girl was a bit of a loose cannon, he agreed with Blake on that. And it was Blake who’d asked him to get involved.

  He cleared his throat. ‘What about all the surveillance equipment in her house?’

  Nicci shot him a look. ‘Could she have discovered it?’

  ‘Your former colleagues searched the place and they missed it.’

  Kaz turned to Nicci. ‘What? Her place was bugged?’

  ‘Extensively.’

  Rory scratched his chin. ‘What if the camera was stolen and the house bugged at the same time?’

  Nicci nodded. ‘And it happened after Glasgow. Helen’s left with one copy of the footage on a memory stick. Her house is bugged, her movements were probably being tracked via her phone. She might not have known for sure, but, if the camera disappeared from inside the house, she’d have certainly suspected. Surely her behaviour would’ve changed at this point?’

  Kaz took a slug of coffee, the knot of rage in her stomach growing. Nicci was a detective, this was how they operated, working it all out step by step. For Kaz it was frustratingly slow. ‘Still doesn’t tell us who nobbled the footage.’

  Nicci frowned. ‘Neville Moore. It has to be.’

  ‘Why? Why bother? Why not just chuck it in the bin?’

  ‘It’s a gesture.’ Rory inclined his head, thinking aloud. ‘He’s taking out insurance.’

  ‘What the fuck is that supposed to mean?’ Kaz glared at him.

  ‘It’s not for us. He’s telling Pudovkin, “Don’t worry about me, I get the message. I’m on side.”’ An enigmatic smile crept across Rory’s features. ‘I would suggest we need to change our perspective on this. Our starting point is Helen Warner, but is it really about her?’

  ‘Yeah, it’s about this fucker Pudovkin trying to protect Hollister.’ Kaz spat the politician’s name.

  Nicci turned to Rory. ‘Okay, you’re saying let’s look at it from Pudovkin’s point of view rather than Warner’s.’

  Rory slotted his hands in his pockets. ‘A businessman connected to the security service? What’s in it for him? Why go to such lengths to protect Hollister? Because they’re friends?’ He dismissed this with a shake of the head. ‘My guess is he’s collecting assets.’

  Nicci relaxed back into the sofa; this was Rory’s world more than hers – strategic thinking, the military mind. Part of her was reluctant to go there, and his superior attitude didn’t help. Nevertheless, he’d made an important point. ‘So you’re saying this isn’t about protecting Robert Hollister, it’s about trapping him?’

  ‘I think it’s a premise worth exploring. Pudovkin saw the opportunity and took it.’

  Kaz watched the two of them, debating, analysing. As they riffed off one another there was a definite sexual vibe. But Helen’s life and death didn’t matter to them, it was just a problem to be solved, a conundrum to unravel. That was what excited them. They were both smart and he wanted to impress her. Kaz was merely an outsider. And that was okay with her. Even if the memory stick wasn’t enough to nail Hollister, Nicci was like a dog with a bone now. She was determined to put all the pieces of the puzzle together. This was who she was and what she did. All Kaz had to do was stick with her, sooner or later they’d get a result. Kaz could decide then what she wanted to do with it.

  93

  Rory drove them over to Blackheath in the SBA company Range Rover. Julia’s parents lived down a gated private road in a substantial detached Georgian house covered with ivy.

  Kaz had assumed her background was posh, but it wasn’t until she followed Nicci through the elegant rooms to the back garden that she realized just how posh. The Hadleys were respectable and rich and charming. Kaz felt envious – parents and a home straight out of a movie fantasy. It seemed to her the dice had always been loaded and her rival for Helen’s affections had always had the drop on her. But in an odd way, that didn’t matter now as much as it had.

  The object of the expedition was to ask more questions and to re-examine the text Helen had sent to Julia just before she died. Nicci was annoyed with herself for not taking a proper note of it when she’d seen it before. On the journey over to Blackheath she’d been pensive, mainly silent. It had given Kaz a chance to try and wash the image of Helen and Hollister out of her mind.

  While Rory chatted amiably with Mr Hadley about cricket, Nicci and Kaz joined Julia in the garden. She was on a sun lounger, looking miserable. Nicci had suggested en route that it was unnecessary for Julia to view the content of the memory stick. Kaz had agreed. Why upset her more than she already was?

  But for Kaz there was also pride involved. Julia had many advantages; what she lacked was the guts and resolution to face up to the truth behind Helen’s death. She may have started the ball rolling with the investigation, but pushing it to the endgame? Kaz had decided to reserve that role for herself.

  After polite enquiries about Nicci’s injured arm and the offer of tea from Mrs Hadley, Julia went into the house and brought out the phone.

  In a sombre voice she read the text:

  Hey babe – don’t think badly of me. I never wanted to hurt you. Politics, what a shit-show! I really thought I understood the game and was smart enough to play it. How dumb am I? Love you always.

  Nicci had a notebook on her lap and struggled to write with her bandaged hand. Kaz offered to do it for her and Julia repeated the message in a monotone so Kaz could take it down.

  A tension hung in the air; the unspoken rivalry lingered. Julia clicked the phone off and placed it on the wrought-iron garden table. Kaz handed the notebook back to Nicci.

  She looked down at the unexpectedly neat handwriting. ‘Okay: “I really thought I understood the game and was smart enough to play it.”’ Her gaze homed in on Julia. ‘Was that how she usually talked? Politics as a game?’

  ‘Not really. She talked more about wanting to make a difference.’

  ‘So this was cynical for her?’

  ‘I suppose.’

  ‘As if she’d lost her faith in the whole set-up?’

  Julia frowned. ‘I don’t know. Look, I don’t see what you’re getting at here.’

  ‘I’m wondering if she suddenly realized that she was being used.’

  Julia blinked several times like a startled rabbit. ‘Used to do what?’

  ‘Helen was trying to collect evidence for a prosecution against Hollister, but it could’ve also been used to blackmail him.’

  ‘Helen would never have stooped to that.’ Julia visibly stiffened.

  ‘I’m not saying she would.’ Nicci gave her a reassuring smile. ‘Think back to just before Helen died. Was her behaviour in any way unusual?’

  ‘I can’t really remember. It’s all just got . . .’ She sniffed and wiped a palm across her nose. Her eyes were dull and medicated.

  ‘C
onfused, I understand. Did she ever talk about the GoPro camera? It could well have been stolen when the house was bugged. Possibly a couple of weeks before she died.’

  Julia’s face remained blank for a few moments, then a light seemed to dawn. ‘Well, I was out at work. The cleaner let them in. I’d arranged it over the phone. The electricity company wanted to change the meters to these new smart meters.’

  Nicci nodded. ‘Where are the meters?’

  ‘In the cellar. I discussed it with Helen. She thought it was a good idea. More green, and all that.’

  ‘When was this?’

  Julia seemed to be dredging her memory. ‘I’m not sure. But, yeah, I think it was a couple of weeks before she died?’

  ‘So the day they came to do it, when you got home and Helen got home, did anything happen?’

  ‘I was home first. I was cooking supper when Helen came in. She went to her study. I think possibly ten minutes later she came down, said she was going for a run. In fact we had words, because the food was ready.’ The recollection produced a resentful look. ‘I was pissed off with her.’

  ‘She went out anyway?’

  ‘So you’re saying I helped them break in and bug our house?’ Julia looked up at Nicci, tears in her eyes.

  ‘Maybe. But you weren’t to know.’ Nicci patted her hand.

  Kaz sat back in her chair watching. All the fight seemed to have gone out of Julia. Sitting in the sunshine in the lush and leafy walled garden, she remained locked in her own personal hell.

  ‘I phoned Charles this morning – Helen’s father. Just wanted to check he was okay. You know what he told me? Paige and Robert are getting a divorce. Robert told him in confidence. They’re trying to keep it out of the papers for as long as possible. What do you make of that?’

  94

  Eddie Lunt was not a man who liked exercise, particularly on a Sunday. Sunday was a day of rest and reflection on the sofa with a bowl of popcorn and a DVD. He was a sci-fi fan – not the silly stuff full of lovesick vampires and zombies – he preferred hard-core techno, where the robots were far smarter than the humans. Most weekends he watched with his brother David. It was their special time together. David didn’t always manage to follow the entire plot, but he liked loads of guns and action.