Before I Say I Do

by Vicki Bradley

  ‘I’ll be damned,’ he whispered, as if he didn’t want to jinx it by saying it out loud. She read the returned hit. The car was registered to a Jonathan Cane, Flat 5, Ledbury House, John Ruskin Street, Walworth, London.

  ‘That’s just down the road.’ Loxton looked at Kowalski and he shook his head at her in disbelief.

  Kowalski frowned at the screen as he completed a few more checks.

  ‘What’s up?’ she asked.

  ‘He’s got a conviction for murder, back in 2000. He’s a lifer.’

  ‘A life licence from prison? Does it say any more about the murder?’ She felt her heartbeat quicken.

  ‘No, it’s too far back.’ Kowalski shook his head. ‘We’ll have to request the old files and a full intel profile to be done on him.’

  Loxton packed her CS spray in her covert harness. You didn’t deal with someone on a life licence too often.

  ‘We can arrest him on suspicion of drug supply and see what’s in his flat and what he has to say about Steele’s alibi.’

  ‘And we should take his phones. See if they back up Steele’s story.’ She picked up her grab bag full of evidence bags and exhibit labels. She put on her stab vest, the weight of it pushing her down. Kowalski called Kanwar over and told him to follow as back up, in case anything went wrong.

  *

  So, this was Jonathan Cane’s flat, Loxton thought. He lived alone inside a tiny bedsit that he’d been renting the past six months. The landlord had let them in with a key when they’d shown him the search warrant they’d got en route.

  The wallpaper was peeling in the corners, and damp patches sprawled across the ceiling. The smell of smoke and cannabis was overwhelming.

  The single bed had a grey duvet crumpled on it and on the bedside table was some paperwork. Loxton leafed through it. A probation meeting scheduled for Thursday at 10am. She took the name and number of the probation officer.

  Kowalski opened the fridge. There was the smell of something off and when he picked up the milk it was two weeks out of date.

  ‘Doesn’t come here often?’ Loxton offered, wondering where Cane spent most of his time. She began searching the rest of Cane’s meagre possessions.

  ‘Bingo.’ Kowalski had pulled the small fridge away from the wall and found several envelopes stashed behind it. Kowalski dropped them onto the cheap side table, next to the overflowing ashtray, which they had to move aside.

  Each envelope was crammed with piles of photographs.

  ‘Looks like an old Kodak disposable,’ Kowalski said as he studied the camera he had found in a kitchen drawer.

  ‘I guess he didn’t want to have to get these developed or have any of this on his phone.’ Loxton held a couple of the photographs up. Then she froze for a second, hardly believing what she was seeing.

  They were all of Julia Talbot.

  In one, Talbot was walking along a high street in a blouse and skirt, a handbag swinging from her arm whilst she talked on a mobile.

  In another, she was in a jewellery store, talking to a customer. The photo was taken from outside, through the display window.

  There were hundreds of them, all of Talbot in public, oblivious that she was being watched.

  Loxton took in a sharp breath. Had Jonathan Cane been threatening Mark Rowthorn? Blackmailing him to launder the money and using Julia’s safety as his motivation? Had Cane become obsessed with Julia Talbot after meeting Mark? Had he murdered Rowthorn in a moment of jealous rage?

  ‘Look.’ Kowalski handed Loxton a photograph in which Rowthorn was speaking to David Steele outside the entrance to City Enterprises.

  They pulled the flat apart and found more photographs. Some of the ones of Julia were creased and folded, as if Cane had been carrying them around with him for a long time. One was through Talbot’s living room window late at night. She was curled up on her sofa in a cream chemise, checking her mobile, the soft blue glow of her TV illuminating her features.

  Loxton shivered. The thought of being stalked for months and having no idea made her stomach twist. She felt sick.

  Her hand tightened on the photograph. ‘Where is he? We need to question him about all of this.’ She motioned at the photographs scattered across the table. ‘And the drugs, the money laundering, and Steele’s alibi.’

  ‘Well, since he’s obviously not here often,’ Kowalski said, looking at the empty flat, ‘let’s put him out as wanted. We can do some more digging to find out where he operates from. Who he works for. A little bit of pressure and they might tell us where he is.’

  Loxton nodded and gathered up the photographs into evidence bags.

  Kowalski’s mobile rang. ‘Hi, Meera, what’s up? . . . Okay – slow down. Have you tried Webb?’ A pause. ‘Keep trying them both. When we’ve dropped this off at the station we’ll try to get hold of her too. She needs to know the body wasn’t Rowthorn.’

  Kowalski’s eyes met Loxton’s. ‘They can’t find Talbot. She’s not at her flat and she’s not answering her phone.’ He looked worried. Having found these photographs, she could understand why.

  Chapter 25

  Julia Talbot

  Wednesday

  Coming here alone was the stupidest thing I’d ever done. My hand clenched tightly around my mobile as I stood in the queue for the nightclub, jittery and alone. I could still call Lucy to come and join me, but she’d go mad as soon as she saw Jonny, and I needed to be discreet.

  I got lucky in the Night Jar Bar queue. There was no sign of Jonny and the bouncer let me through without taking too much notice. All he seemed to care about was the twenty-quid entrance fee.

  Inside I was hit by darkness and noise as the music pounded through the club. It was bigger than I’d imagined, and I could see a sign pointing to the Night Jar Bar where I’d met Jonny only yesterday evening.

  It was busier than I’d expected for a Wednesday, and I was glad of it. If Jonny did work here, then I didn’t want him to spot me on an empty dance floor.

  Women in their twenties were throwing themselves at middle-aged men in suits who passed the girls little snap bags of white powder. The girls giggled and sauntered off to the ladies’ room in pairs, and a few minutes later stumbled back arm in arm looking the worse for wear.

  The DJ was playing electronic music which went on and on, and about forty people were writhing about on the dance floor, off their faces. Groups of businessmen kept coming in, shouting to each other over the music. More young women would come from a door beside the bar and start mingling with the groups of men. Had Mark really been in here?

  I spotted Jonny in the VIP section, a collection of sofas and low tables on a raised platform to the right of the dance floor. He was wearing a dark blue shirt and fitted dark jeans with black trainers. He was sat up straight, his eyes scanning the room. He did work here.

  An older man all in black stopped to talk to him, and then sat in the VIP area with some dodgy-looking men who wouldn’t have looked out of place in a Tarantino film. Were these the drug dealers? Or had Jonny made all of that up? I was out of my depth, but I didn’t care. I needed to find out what had happened to Mark. He’d been here. Maybe this was where he’d met his killer.

  I ducked away from Jonny and fought my way into the crowd congregated by the bar. A few people grumbled and one girl swung her sharp elbow into my ribs. The pain radiated through my right side, but I resisted the urge to elbow her back. I was deep enough in to be blocked from Jonny’s view.

  My breathing was ragged as I waited for a tap on the shoulder, but it didn’t come. When I got to the bar I bought a gin and tonic and found an empty table to sit at in a dingy corner with the dance floor between us. Jonny hadn’t spotted me, and I intended to keep it that way. I sipped my gin, trying to figure out what I was going to do.

  The day Mark disappeared, someone had emptied his crypto account of one hundred thousand pounds, and I knew that someone wasn’t me. Somebody here must know something, but they weren’t going to tell me anything if I just came
out and asked them.

  I noticed that people kept going over to the man in black and talking in his ear. He would then instruct them and they would go through the staff door and out of sight.

  I saw women come out of the back with trays of shots, mingling with the crowd, passing them little snap bags in exchange for cash. When their trays were empty of drinks, they dropped them off at the bar and went through the doors again. If I could get in the back, maybe I could find something on Mark – CCTV or paperwork or something.

  I headed to the ladies’ bathroom and reapplied my make-up to match the girls’ heavy eyeliner and heavy lipstick, unbuttoning my top to reveal more cleavage. I pulled out a cigarette and lighter and then headed back to the bar, collecting some empty glasses on the way and placing them on the side and slipping through the doors. The barman didn’t look twice at me; he was too busy trying to serve the crowd.

  I headed down a corridor and went past the kitchen. A heavy-set man came out of a side office.

  ‘What you doing down here, darling? Bar’s that way.’

  I laughed. ‘I’ve not seen you before, where’ve you been hiding? I was just going to sneak out the back before the boss notices. Is that okay with you?’ I held up my lighter and cigarette and smiled at him. Starting smoking again after all these years had its benefits.

  He laughed. ‘Course it is, darling. Just be fast.’

  Men seemed to fall for my deceptions so quickly.

  ‘I promise.’ I winked at him and hurried down the corridor, turning the corner. My heart was racing. That had been too close. I saw a fire exit at the end of the corridor, but on the right was another office door. I held my breath and tried the handle. Inside was a neat office, with metal filling cabinets along one wall, and an imposing wooden desk with a laptop open opposite me.

  I prayed the laptop was unlocked. I touched the cursor, but there was just a picture of a snow-capped mountain with the username and password section blank.

  I closed my eyes for a brief second. There was no way in a million years I’d be able to unlock it. Perhaps I could grab the laptop and make a dash through the fire exit, get one of those dodgy stalls to hack into it. But the fire exit was probably alarmed, and I didn’t fancy my chances against the bouncer I’d passed earlier.

  My palms were clammy as I reached out and tried the drawers of the desk. It was a big oak thing and seemed stubbornly secure, but I gave the handles a yank anyway. Unsurprisingly, they didn’t budge.

  This had been a waste of time. Who the hell did I think I was? It was time I got out of here before I got caught. I crept to the door, paused by the metal cabinets and listened for a moment.

  Silence.

  No one was nearby. I waited a little longer to be sure, scanning the room one last time before I left. I spotted that there was a key still left in one of the locks of the clunky drawers in the metal cabinet. Someone must have just been here. I pulled open the drawers and flicked through the files, as quickly as I could. I’d been here too long; I should go, but I might never get this chance again.

  Four drawers down and I spotted a file labelled ‘MR & DS’. I pulled it out. Pages of numbers were inside, almost like records of a loan. The numbers were staggering, rising rapidly. Sometimes large sums went in, only to have more added on the next row.

  ‘Mark’ was scribbled in the margins next to some payments and ‘Dave’ at other points.

  MR – Mark Rowthorn.

  DS – David Steele.

  David had lied. Whatever trouble Mark had got into, David had known all about it. From these records, I could see they owed the club two hundred and fifty thousand between them. A red circle had been drawn around the figure and there were no more entries after it.

  I took a photo on my phone and dropped the file back in the cabinet. This was the evidence I needed that Mark had been involved in the nightclub, the same nightclub that Jonny worked in. It also showed David knew more than he’d said, and I didn’t want him to escape justice. He wouldn’t charm his way out of this and blame everything on Mark. I needed to call Loxton. I shut the cabinet door and slipped out of the room, heading back along the corridor to the bar. The man dressed all in black was striding towards me. Shit.

  ‘Perfect,’ he said, looking me right in the eye. ‘Could you come with us into my office? We’ll be making some drinks orders.’ He pointed towards the office that I had just come out of. I opened the door and stood aside so he could enter. Jonny was behind him and looked startled when he saw me, but followed his boss into the office without saying a word. Why hadn’t he said anything?

  ‘Please, come in,’ the man said to me. He sat himself behind the ornate wooden desk and motioned towards the drinks’ cabinet. Could you make us two Old Fashioneds?’

  I moved slowly over to the bottles and opened the cabinet, trying to steady my breathing. I sneaked a glance at Jonny, but he was looking at his boss, not me. They were talking about the security rota.

  What would they do to me? Would they make me ‘disappear’? I felt sick as I tried to focus on the gleaming bottles. There was whisky, gin, vodka . . . So many spirits I didn’t know what all of them were.

  My hands were clammy as I took out two glasses. I knew whisky went in an Old Fashioned but after that . . . I poured a healthy measure in both glasses and got some ice from the freezer. Then I just added a few random spirits, hoping they weren’t watching me. Maybe Jonny wouldn’t say anything? Maybe it would be okay.

  ‘I do like a good Old Fashioned,’ the man said as I put the glasses in front of them, trying hard not to drop them in my panic. I headed slowly towards the door. ‘Don’t leave. I wanted to ask you before you go why you’ve been searching through my files? I’ve been watching you on our CCTV. I want to know who you are.’

  I froze at the door. I could run but Jonny was just there. He could reach out and grab me in a second.

  ‘I’m not with the police,’ I said. My mind was whirling from one scenario to another, but there was no way I could lie my way out of this one.

  ‘I gathered that. Who are you, then?’ His voice became harder. He motioned to Jonny, who stood up and grabbed me by the arms, manoeuvring me into his seat. He stood by the door with his arms folded.

  ‘Are you getting soft in your old age?’ The boss asked Jonny.

  ‘No,’ Jonny looked anxious.‘It’s just . . . she’s a woman.’

  ‘Never stopped you before.’ The boss turned his cold gaze on me.‘Best start talking or this could get unpleasant.

  What’s your name?’

  ‘I’m no one.’ I tried to keep the tremor from my voice.

  The boss slammed his fist into the table. I flinched despite myself. ‘I asked you your name.’ His eyes bored into mine. ‘You get one more chance.’ He tried to keep his voice steady, but it shook with anger. He sat back down and straightened his tie.

  ‘I’m Julia Talbot. Mark Rowthorn’s fiancée. He’s been murdered and I found this club’s business card in his things.’ I held his gaze, refusing to look away. I didn’t want to show this man I was petrified.

  ‘So, you broke in and searched for his killer in one of my filing cabinets?’ His voice was unnervingly calm again as he motioned at the metal cabinets, all neatly closed.

  ‘I know he was in debt to you. I want to know what you’ve done to him.’

  ‘Done to him?’ The man sat back in surprise. And then he laughed. Jonny laughed along, looking from his boss to me. I had no idea what the joke was, and I didn’t think Jonny did either. Anger began to bubble up in me, mixed dangerously with fear.

  ‘I haven’t done anything to him,’ the man said. ‘He and his mate owed me two hundred and fifty thousand pounds, as you saw in the ledger. All legitimate of course. Mark threw a lot of office parties here. And between you and me Mark liked to gamble. Big. He told me he was going to get the money and I believed him. I’m still waiting.’ He put his hands out, as if expecting me to produce the money from thin air.

  ‘Bullshit
. You’ve killed him.’ I was losing control, but I didn’t care. I hated this smarmy man and whatever shit he had got Mark into.

  ‘Now that sort of accusation I won’t have.’ The man’s face darkened. I knew he was no longer playing. ‘I don’t want to ever see you here again. I haven’t killed your boyfriend, which is lucky for you, because if I had you’d be joining him. If the police come sniffing round here, I’ll be sending someone to your door. Take her outside, Jonny.’ He waved his hand as if dismissing a naughty child.

  ‘No problem, boss.’ Jonny seized me and dragged me towards the door.

  ‘Make sure she understands.’ His eyes fixed on Jonny’s, who nodded his agreement.

  Jonny marched me along the corridor and towards the fire exit. I didn’t dare breathe. He flung open the fire door and pulled me outside. It was a secluded alleyway. There were large metal waste disposal bins near to the door. Jonny pushed it closed.

  ‘What are you fucking playing at?’ He was right in front of me. There was no way I’d be able to get away. ‘Do you know how much shit you could have got me in back there? He’s dangerous.’

  ‘You lied to me about Mark.’ I glared at him, the rage making me brave. ‘You said you didn’t know him. But he was here. He owes money to your boss. You’ve killed him.’

  ‘I haven’t touched him.’ He paced up and down in front of me. ‘I don’t know what the fuck happened to him. I only ever tried to ruin your life . . . like you ruined mine. I’m not a killer.’

  ‘What did you do?’ I should have called the police after I’d first seen him. I’d been an idiot. He was still as dangerous as he’d ever been.

  ‘You stitched me up, Jenny. Sent me to prison by planting that ring on your sister. I was a kid at the time, I didn’t understand what was happening at the trial. It took me a long time to realize what you did. So when I came out of prison the plan was simple. Ruin your life like you’d ruined mine. You were set to marry a wealthy banker. I figured if I could corrupt him, then you’d end up wasting your life on him, just like the best years of my life were wasted in prison.’