Alana Loxton
Wednesday
Loxton and Kowalski stared at the pages of highlighted phone data spread out in front of them. It was from Rowthorn’s work mobile and the hidden one they had found. Loxton rubbed her face, tiredness making it hard to focus on the numbers. It was early afternoon, but she felt groggy from lack of sleep, her eyes hurting and everything aching in complaint. Kowalski pulled out a packet of Haribo from his desk and offered it to her. She shook her head.
‘Only thing that’s keeping me awake.’ He popped one in his mouth.
She smiled at him as he popped another sweet into his mouth, then looked back at her papers. ‘Rowthorn was getting through three grams of cocaine most weeks.’
Loxton thought of Julia Talbot, the permanent red eyes and circles underneath. How would she feel when she was told the man she had loved and was desperate to find had never existed? Mark Rowthorn had been a carefully constructed fantasy – devoted fiancé, perfect son and successful investment broker. That was all about to shatter.
‘I’ve put the mobile number of the drug dealer supplying Rowthorn through the system,’ said Kowalski. ‘It was bought a month ago, unregistered pay-as-you-go.’
‘Another nameless ghost,’ she said. ‘Can’t be anyone high up the chain; they’d have known to ditch the mobile after a few days and get a new one.’ Were they amateurish enough to still have the phone? Loxton hoped so; they were due a lucky break.
‘The mobile that sent threatening texts is also unregistered,’ Kowalski said.‘It became active three weeks before Rowthorn disappeared and was only used to send threats to him. “You will burn.”’
‘Burn for what?’ she said. ‘Inside trading? A drug deal?’ A headache bloomed deep inside her head.
‘It could be anything.’ Kowalski dropped the pages back on the desk as if he was done with them. ‘I’ll get the dealer’s texts and call data from the phone company. This could be as simple as a drug deal gone wrong.’
‘The best man still looks good to me.’ Loxton flipped through the pages until she found what she was looking for. ‘“I can’t believe you’d do that. What’s wrong with you?” That’s Steele to Rowthorn a week before the wedding. And the number that called Steele just before we interviewed him at Talbot’s flat that first day has come back as a burner phone. It was only used for that one phone call.’
‘So someone high up the chain to be that disciplined. We need to speak to Steele again,’ Kowalski said.
‘Agreed,’ she said. ‘He was the last person to see Rowthorn. And we need to ask him about the insider trading.’
‘Better update the boss we’re going to visit Steele.’ Kowalski looked at Winter’s office and then at her. She returned his strained look. They’d been avoiding Winter, but they couldn’t hide anymore.
‘We should tell him about the leak too, but we don’t have to mention Alec Saunders’s name. It’s not really relevant.’ Loxton looked at him, hoping he’d agree. She felt awful asking Kowalski not to mention Alec Saunders, but she knew she’d be treated differently, as if she was the one leaking police information.
Kowalski sighed and nodded. ‘All right then, but that better be the last we see of Saunders.’
‘I’m sure it will be.’ She prayed that it was.
*
Winter stared at Loxton in amazement. ‘You’re telling me that Rowthorn was taking drugs and that he and Steele are linked to insider trading at City Enterprises. And just before Rowthorn goes missing, Steele has an argument with him?’ Winter stopped pacing. ‘This situation is out of control. Have you seen the press outside?’
Loxton looked at Kowalski, their eyes locked, neither wanting to take the lead.
‘What?’ Winter sank into his chair. ‘Tell me.’
Kowalski placed his hands on the desk, as if bracing himself. ‘There’s a problem.’
‘You’re telling me. What now?’ Winter sighed, his shoulders dropping.
‘A journalist got to Talbot first. Told her about the body in the river.’
‘Oh God.’ Winter put his head in his hands. ‘How the hell did the press get there before you?’
‘We don’t know, sir.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me this before?’ Winter frowned at Kowalski.
‘We . . . got caught up in enquiries.’ Kowalski wouldn’t meet Winter’s gaze. The truth hung in the air. They had been avoiding him, neither wanting to have to mention Saunders.
‘What was the journalist’s name?’ Winter asked.
‘Alex something . . .’ Kowalski said. ‘He didn’t give us his name. Some freelance guy.’
Winter frowned at them in turn. ‘I’d better call the Commander. This means there’s a leak, and I won’t stop until I find it. What you’ve just told me doesn’t leave this room, obviously.’
They nodded in unison. Loxton’s throat was tight and she felt sick. She wanted to run out of the room.
‘Charles Rowthorn will no doubt have already complained to the Commander.’ He regarded them both in turn. ‘Rowthorn’s been demanding we stop the press from releasing Julia Talbot’s photograph and details. The police press bureau has requested that the media not print her photograph out of respect, but it’s only a matter of time until one paper does, and then they all will. And now a journalist has been at her house, giving her the death message before we could. You should have told me immediately.’
‘I’m sorry, sir,’ Kowalski said.
‘You’d better get going.’ Winter turned to his monitor.
‘Going?’ Kowalski asked.
‘This Steele keeps coming up.’ Winter’s eyes darkened. ‘Get in his face. Make him sweat. See what he does. I’ll authorize a drugs warrant. Search his flat under that pretence but find this missing mobile if it is him.’
‘We’re on it.’ Kowalski was out of the door nearly as quickly as Loxton.
Chapter 20
Alana Loxton
Wednesday
Steele’s flat was on the twentieth floor and fitted every preconception Loxton had about bankers. The living room was bigger than her entire apartment. Every surface gleamed under the spotlights. She noticed Kowalski was gawping at the room. Was he trying to calculate how much it was all worth, like she was?
The London skyline glittered back at her, the Shard overlooking the city. The evening was cloudy, blocking out the stars.
‘Thank you for seeing us,’ Loxton said.
‘I heard you found a body. Is it Mark?’ Despite the sombre demeanour, Steele was wearing a tuxedo and his hair was styled with gel. He was holding a glass of what looked like whisky.
‘It’s not confirmed yet,’ she said, ‘but it’s looking that way. We have a few questions.’
‘I was just going out. The bank’s had this fundraiser organized for months. I can’t skip it. Will this take long?’ He took a swig from his glass.
‘It shouldn’t do. Was Mark wearing a watch when you last saw him?’ She needed to ask him this question before executing the warrant and he closed down.
‘You’re kidding me.’ Steele stared at them both in turn. ‘I have no idea, sorry.’
‘It was a silver Armani watch with a navy face.’
‘I don’t remember.’ He put the glass down. His eyes kept sliding to the door.
‘Did he mention losing his watch?’ Kowalski asked.
‘No.’ Steele checked his own Omega, impatient.
‘How was Mark in the weeks leading up to the wedding?’ Loxton said.
‘You’ve already asked me this.’ He frowned at them. ‘He was a bit jittery but that’s what you’d expect from a groom.’
‘Did you have any arguments with him?’ Loxton wished, not for the first time, that she could read minds.
‘No, not really.’ Steele couldn’t meet her eye. ‘He did become a bit of a groomzilla, though. You know, everything had to be perfect.’
‘David, we know about the insider trading in the bank.’
‘That’s got not
hing to do with me.’ Steele’s voice became cold and his shoulders visibly tensed. ‘I don’t know anything about that.’
‘Mark was facing a disciplinary board. He was your best friend and you didn’t know anything about it? Everyone else at the bank did. The bank has passed the investigation to us and your name has come up.’
‘I can’t answer for Mark and I don’t know anything about the insider trading.’ Steele looked nervous, his eyes flitting about the flat, as if searching for a way to escape. ‘I don’t have to talk to you, I know my rights. Now get the hell out of my flat.’ He glared at her and banged his whisky glass down on a side table and walked to the door.
‘Actually, we’ll be staying. We have a drugs warrant to search your premises authorized by my boss and signed by the magistrate.’ Loxton took a copy out of her jacket to show him.
‘This is a fucking joke.’ Steele’s voice rose, as he punched the wall; the crack of his knuckles reverberated through the empty space. He didn’t even flinch at the pain. He was working himself up for a fight. He snatched the copy of the warrant from her hand and ripped it into pieces, scattering it onto the floor. ‘You’re not searching my flat.’
Loxton pulled out her handcuffs. She felt adrenaline course through her veins, anger and fear mixing together to put her on high alert. She kept her voice calm. ‘Put your hands out in front of you, Mr Steele. This search is happening whether you want it to or not. Don’t make it any worse for yourself.’
Steele stared at the handcuffs. ‘You’re not fucking putting them on me.’ He shoved his head closer to hers, squaring up to her. His spittle hit her face, and the stench of stale whisky and smoke from his breath almost made her gag. Even his strong sandalwood aftershave couldn’t cover it up. He must have been drinking all afternoon. Her stomach twisted in alarm. He towered over her by a foot.
‘Calm down.’ Kowalski stepped forward and put his hand on Steele. Kowalski was broader and a few inches taller, but Steele was not deterred. His pupils were pinpricks.
Loxton was losing patience with this dickhead. ‘What have you taken?’
Steele shoved her backwards towards the front door. ‘Fuck you, bitch.’ Her leg collided with the sofa behind her, throwing her off balance, but she managed to steady herself.
Kowalski lunged at Steele and dragged him away from her. She grabbed Steele’s wrist, but he pulled back, forcing her towards him, even while Kowalski was trying to restrain him. Steele’s strength was terrifying.
‘Don’t even think about it.’ Kowalski was still holding tight onto Steele’s shoulders. ‘You touch her again and you’ll regret it.’
Steele span around to swing at Kowalski with his free arm. ‘Get off me, you cunt!’ It was as if he was possessed. Drugs?
Kowalski grappled with him as Loxton kicked down onto the back of Steele’s knee. Suspects always underestimated the female officer. Steele’s leg gave way and he collapsed. Kowalski stepped to Steele’s side, twisting his arm behind his back, and used Steele’s weight against him to push him downwards. Steele let out a feral growl as he crashed hard onto the floor.
She crouched down, trying to pin one of Steele’s shoulders to the floor, but he thrashed about, trying to lift himself with his free arm. Kowalski shifted his grip, causing Steele to cry out.
He tried struggling through the pain but eventually gave up. ‘All right. You’re fucked up, the pair of you.’ He relaxed his arm and Loxton grabbed his wrist, clicking the metal cuff onto it and then the other one.
Together, Loxton and Kowalski managed to help Steele onto his feet. Her breath was ragged and her muscles were starting to ache as the adrenaline wore off.
‘You’ve broken my fucking arm,’ Steele said.
Kowalski rolled his eyes. Loxton checked Steele over but all he’d have in the morning was minor bruising – like they would.
‘You’ll live,’ she said.
‘You two are about to lose your jobs.’
‘If I had a pound for every time I’d heard that,’ Kowalski said as he searched Steele, ‘I’d be nearly as rich as you.’
‘You are going to be in so much shit,’ Steele said through gritted teeth.
‘You’re under arrest for assaulting an officer.’ Kowalski still had hold of him. ‘You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.’
Steele shook his head in annoyance. Kowalski searched him, retrieving Steele’s mobile phone from his pocket and putting it into a plastic bag. That was probably Steele’s main mobile, and they knew he hadn’t used it to send threatening texts to Rowthorn, if it was him who’d sent them.
‘You search the flat, Alana,’ Kowalski said. ‘You’ve got a knack for it. And why don’t you take a seat, Mr Steele? We’re going be here a while.’
Loxton was glad of Steele’s lack of substance. The flat was minimalistic, and she searched through Steele’s living room and bedroom quickly, looking for any hidden mobiles while she searched for drugs. She was sweating by the time she found something – underneath a loose floorboard beneath the bed.
Wrapped inside a plastic shopping bag were clear plastic snap bags with white powder inside. Cocaine. Not the mobile she was hoping for, but better than nothing.
Loxton headed to the en-suite. She pulled off her gloves and placed them carefully on the white sink. Her hands were sticky and the fresh air was good on her skin. She bent down to splash her face with cold water but stopped.
There was something on the white bathmat. A tiny dark reddish-brown stain. She knelt down to take a better look. Dried blood. She’d seen it enough times to recognize it. She put her gloves back on and gently lifted up the mat. More traces of blood. Someone had tried to cover it up.
Looking closer, she saw there were more tiny drops of red on the grouting between the white tiles by the sink. Someone had wiped most of it away, but hadn’t been very thorough. But whose blood was it? Could this be the last room that Rowthorn had seen?
She dialled Winter’s number. She was going to need a full forensic team.
Chapter 21
Julia Talbot
Wednesday
Sunlight poured in through the living room windows, intensifying the heat in the room. I wiped the sweat from my forehead as I took a moment to catch my breath. It was two in the afternoon and a sweltering hot summer’s day. I’d thrown all the windows open, but if anything it seemed to make the room hotter.
I could have done with Lucy’s help, but she was at work, and then she had to pick up James from the airport. She’d said that she could come over afterwards in the evening, but I’d told her she should see James. Elizabeth and Charles were coming over later for a few hours to discuss the funeral, and it was best if it was just the three of us.
I’d heaved another big box into the living room and dumped it onto the floor. I’d been working all morning. I was fast running out of boxes. I still hadn’t found any clue as to what had been going on in Mark’s life. The police said Mark had been stealing money from work, but then Jonny had said Mark was in debt to drug dealers. I needed to know what had happened to all of this money.
There was so much crap hidden about our flat it’d taken me four hours to get this far. It was hard to believe what we’d been carrying about with us for all this time. Everything from old tax bills, birthday cards and my school paintings were scattered around me. I’d kept my school art to show my children one day – our children. That would never happen now.
How could something so sure end up like this? I guess I’d never really known Mark and he’d never known me. I’d been meticulous in my lies to make sure to keep my secrets hidden from him. I’d told him my parents were dead. I’d pretended I’d always been Julia Talbot. And I’d never told him about Rachel.
It had never occurred to me that he’d been keeping his own secrets from me. We’d projected different people onto each other, and we’d tried
to become them. That’s where we’d gone so wrong. If we’d just been honest with each other, maybe he wouldn’t be dead now. But that just wasn’t how I operated. I was always lying. Always hiding. Never letting anyone in.
I cried silently as I carried on my search. The box in front of me was different from all the rest, in that it was solely Mark’s. Nothing of mine was mixed inside. There were folders full of paperwork, but a cursory glance showed me that it was his old university junk.
There was a photo of Mark graduating. He looked so young and handsome. There was a university group shot, too, but I didn’t recognize anyone. I’d never met any of Mark’s university friends. I was starting to realize how little I’d known about his past.
I dug through the rest of the papers and, right at the bottom of the box, was an envelope with my name in Mark’s handwriting. The envelope was bright white and it stood out against the yellowing papers around it. I struggled to tear open the envelope in my panic. I pulled out the letter and saw Mark’s neat handwriting running across the page.
It was his last will and testament.
I stared at the words. He had left me everything. With our finances the way they were, that wasn’t much, but his life insurance was worth four hundred thousand pounds, and I was set to inherit all of it. There was a separate note inside with the details of a hidden online crypto account.
I followed Mark’s instructions to check the hidden account, first downloading TOR and then bouncing off different servers. But it looked like the account had been emptied the day he went missing. One hundred thousand pounds – gone. So, Mark must have been murdered for money. Or that was what someone was trying to make it look like. And the only person who stood to benefit had been me. Had the police seen this will? Did they know about his life insurance?
I went back to the box and saw that I’d missed something. There was a business card right at the bottom. I picked it up, the glossy dark blue highlighting the words The Night Jar Bar in swirling white italics across it. The figure ‘50,000’ was scribbled across the nightclub’s card in Mark’s handwriting. My hand shook as I held the card, staring at the numbers. This was the nightclub Jonny had met me at.
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