by D. S. Butler
‘No,’ Churchill said.
Karen looked at him. What did he mean, no? That was the next logical step in the investigation. ‘Can I ask why not?’
He turned to Arnie. ‘You and Leo will visit Ross Blundell. Arnie can read over the notes in the car while Leo drives.’
‘But we’re familiar with the suspect. We’ve spoken to him already. It makes sense if we talk to him.’
Churchill arched an eyebrow.
This was a power play. Great. Now she’d have to grovel.
‘I’m not questioning your leadership, but—’
‘Actually, DS Hart, that’s exactly what you’re doing.’ He waved a hand at Leo and Arnie. ‘Go.’
‘Righto, boss.’ Arnie stood and hitched his trousers up. ‘Nice to meet you, DS Hart, DC Jones.’
Leo followed him out of the room, leaving Sophie and Karen alone with Churchill.
‘I’d like you two to produce a clear two-page summary of the case, please. The current case file is a mess.’ He stood up.
Karen clenched her teeth. He hadn’t even looked at the case file properly yet. He was being obnoxious for the sake of it.
He left the room.
Sophie quietly swore at his departing back.
‘DC Jones!’ Karen said, shocked, though secretly she’d have liked to do the same.
Sophie scowled. ‘He’s an utter pig.’
‘He’s not very likeable,’ Karen agreed. ‘But we have to work with him, so we’d better make the best of it.’
‘Makes you realise what a good team leader DI Morgan is, doesn’t it?’
Karen scooped up the paperwork. ‘Yes, it really does.’
Sophie saw Churchill as a difficult boss, but Karen wondered if he was far worse than that. He was prepared to put them behind on a case simply to teach them that he was in charge. Arrogant, yes, but was he part of the network of corrupt officers? She didn’t know yet, but she intended to find out.
Morgan looked up from the paperwork on his desk. Karen and Sophie were sitting together, working on the report Churchill had requested.
He’d asked them what they thought of Churchill, and almost wished he hadn’t when they told him.
His suspicions had been correct.
When the superintendent had come to welcome Churchill and his team, he couldn’t have been more polite and ingratiating. As soon as the superintendent disappeared, his demeanour changed. Morgan had worked with officers like him before.
DS Hodgson seemed solid, from Morgan’s initial impression. A bit scruffy, but an old-school detective, focusing on the case at hand without trying to scale the greasy pole to climb the ranks. He was old enough and had enough experience to handle Churchill. The younger officer, Leo Clinton, was quieter, probably a bit overwhelmed by the forceful personality of his DI.
It was a shame. A good team leader could help with career development and build confidence.
Morgan thought about Rick and Sophie. He should try harder with them. The little chats didn’t come easy to him, but he should make an effort for their sakes. Sophie hopped on to any course going – she was hungry for career advancement – but Rick held back. Could be lack of confidence, or maybe the troubles at home stopped him from making further commitments. That was understandable.
Morgan glanced through the window at Rick, who was staring at his computer screen, working his way through routes to the road where the hit-and-run had occurred, making sure they hadn’t missed any cameras. Maybe he’d ask Rick to go for a drink later. See how he was getting on and ask if he could help in any way.
Morgan glanced at his watch. It was time. He wasn’t looking forward to this. He shrugged on his coat and left his office.
‘Where are you off to, boss?’ Rick asked.
‘To visit the Picketts.’
Rick grimaced. ‘Oh. Difficult one that. Especially as we have no news for them.’
Morgan nodded. ‘Yes. Fancy a drink later, after work?’
Rick looked surprised. ‘All right. Mum’s carer knocks off at six, but my sister will be there this evening.’
‘Won’t take long.’
‘Have I done something wrong?’
‘No, nothing like that. Just thought we could have a chat about your continuing professional development.’
Rick didn’t look very enthusiastic at the prospect but pretended to wipe his brow. ‘Phew.’
Outside, Morgan strode across the car park, wanting to quickly get into his car and out of the biting wind. He sat behind the wheel and glanced in his rear-view mirror at the station building. He had the distinct feeling someone was watching him.
Sparrow was smiling while watching Morgan walk across the car park. Things were working out very well.
Divide and conquer. Wasn’t that the best strategy? It was a quote from Julius Caesar or someone similar. He’d hated history at school, thought it a waste of time. But here he was thinking of an actual quote and applying it to his plans! Who’d have believed it? Not his history teacher, that was for sure. She’d written him off by year nine.
He’d put no effort into his academic pursuits, according to one school report. That had got him a beating from his father when his parents came home from an open evening. He scowled now, looking down at Morgan’s car and wondering why he hadn’t driven off yet.
DI Morgan was an interesting character. Quiet, controlled and calculating. Yes, calculating – that was the perfect word to describe him. And a potential problem that had needed to be removed.
Sparrow considered calling up the boss to boast, but thought better of it. He hated talking to that man, even if there was positive news to deliver. He’d find some way to twist it into a threat.
You know what’s at stake, Sparrow.
As if he could forget.
Just for once, he’d like to be the one in charge, the one calling the shots.
His phone rang. Glancing at the screen, he sighed; his absence had been noted.
Morgan reversed out of the parking bay, and Sparrow walked away from the window, whistling.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
It wouldn’t take them long to finish the case summary. The information was all there in the reports and statements, if Churchill had only taken the time to look.
‘I can do this, Sarge,’ Sophie said. ‘When I’ve finished, I’ll give it to you to look over. Seems a waste of time, both of us focusing on this.’
Karen agreed. She could go back over the witness statements, perhaps contact members of the choir Lloyd Nelson had attended. It was hard to imagine that one of his fellow singers would attack Lloyd in such a violent way. None had criminal records or discernible motives, and they were all in their sixties and seventies. But she needed to be thorough, and that meant checking out every possibility.
Sophie was more than capable of finishing the report herself.
Karen rubbed her stomach, which was growling, protesting missing lunch. ‘All right. I’ll look into the choir while you’re finishing the report, but first I’m going to get something to eat.’
As she approached the canteen, she saw DC Leo Clinton and DS Arnie Hodgson walking towards her. Arnie was eating what looked like a sausage sandwich. A large dollop of sauce dropped on to his tie, and he wiped it off with a napkin, then spotted Karen.
‘DS Hart,’ he said cheerfully. ‘There’s not much left in the canteen. Just a few sandwiches.’
‘That will do me.’ She frowned. ‘I thought you’d already left to go and talk to Russ Blundell.’
‘We’re going now,’ Arnie said.
‘Churchill seemed—’
‘I know what you’re going to say,’ Arnie said, dabbing his chin with a napkin. ‘He likes to put his foot down at the start. Best to agree with a smile and let him get on with it. He’s not all bad, just takes a bit of time to get used to him, that’s all.’
You pretend to agree, Karen thought, then waltz off to lunch instead of interviewing Ross Blundell.
Karen and Sophie would ha
ve been there by now, talking to Blundell, getting the answers they needed. She swallowed her irritation. She shouldn’t begrudge them having lunch. Everyone needed to eat, but Arnie’s carefree, relaxed attitude was grating.
‘Do you want help with the questions you need to ask him?’ Karen asked, then held up her hands. ‘No offence intended. I’m not casting doubt on your interview abilities; it’s just that we’ve already spoken to him.’
‘No offence taken, DS Hart,’ Arnie said with a grin.
Karen was starting to think that nothing got under Arnie’s skin. It was certainly one way of dealing with a boss like DCI Churchill, she supposed.
‘I think we’ve got it under control,’ Arnie said. ‘Did Lloyd steal money from the company? Are there any discrepancies in the accounts? Blah blah.’
He was right. That was the general gist of things, but she couldn’t help thinking he wasn’t taking it terribly seriously.
‘Don’t worry, Karen.’ Leo smiled, his eyes warm. ‘Arnie and I are leaving now, and when we get back, you’ll be the first to know what Ross Blundell said.’
Arnie stuffed the last of his sandwich in his mouth and then looked down at his greasy fingers. ‘Back in a tic. Just need to wash my hands.’
As Arnie wandered off in the direction of the men’s toilets, Leo said, ‘I know the DCI wanted us to go to Sparks Software straightaway, but we hadn’t eaten, and Arnie is like a bear with a sore head when he’s hungry. Trust me, it was better we got him a sandwich now.’ He paused for a moment, then said in a lower voice, ‘He’s a good detective, despite appearances.’
‘How long have you been working together?’
‘Almost eight years.’
‘And you’ve always worked under Churchill?’
‘Yes. He’s all right, too. Just tends to throw his weight around a bit at the start – with new people, I mean.’
‘Likes to exert control?’ Karen suggested.
Leo looked over his shoulder guiltily. ‘Well, yes, he does. But you learn how to deal with him.’
Arnie came back from the toilets, wiping his wet hands against his trousers. ‘Right then, young Leo. Let’s go.’
Karen walked back to her desk with the ham roll she’d purchased from the canteen, but her mind wasn’t focused on eating. She was thinking about Churchill. If she wanted to play a full role in this investigation and not be sidelined, perhaps she should take a leaf out of Arnie Hodgson’s book. Nod, go along with Churchill’s ideas – or at least appear to do so.
She sat at her desk, leafing through the information they’d gathered on the choir as she ate her lunch. She couldn’t see any angles; nothing jumped out at her. The members of the choir seemed boringly normal.
She glanced at her mobile. Should she call Alice Price again to ask about Churchill? They’d spoken in the past, but it had gone nowhere. Alice hadn’t been able to provide any facts, and finally had said she’d been mistaken about Churchill. Worse, Alice’s husband seemed to believe Karen was now harassing his wife.
The last thing she wanted was to make Alice’s condition worse when the woman was so mentally fragile.
But there was someone she could call, talk things over with. One person who would be interested, and hopefully wouldn’t think Karen was paranoid.
She polished off the last of her lunch, reached for her mobile and called DS Grace’s number.
DS Grace was the officer in charge of gathering information for the corruption enquiry. Karen liked her. She was blunt, down to earth and worked hard. Karen didn’t have any evidence against Churchill, other than the knowledge he was an annoying, arrogant so-and-so, but she could tell Grace that Churchill was here.
‘Karen, good to hear from you. Everything okay?’
‘Fine.’ Karen stood up, walking to the other side of the office and standing by the window. There weren’t many people in the open-plan area at the moment, but she didn’t want to risk being overheard. ‘There’s been a bit of a personnel shuffle here. DCI Churchill and his team have come over from Boston to help out.’
‘To fill the gap left by DI Freeman?’ Grace asked. ‘Oh, hang on, you said Churchill?’
‘Yes, I mentioned him to you before.’
‘I remember. I spoke to him. And that friend of yours, Alice Price.’
‘She’s not really a friend. She used to work with my old boss. He was the one who suggested I talk to Alice. Look, I don’t actually have anything more to share on Churchill,’ Karen admitted. ‘I just thought you should know he’d been transferred here.’
‘I appreciate that, Karen. If anything does come up, any alarm bells start ringing, then let me know.’
‘I will,’ Karen said, hoping she hadn’t come across as paranoid.
‘Are you still on for the meeting?’
Karen suddenly remembered that there was a corruption briefing meant to take place later this afternoon. She glanced at the time on her computer screen. ‘Three o’clock, isn’t it?’
‘That’s right. You’ll be there?’
‘Yes.’
‘I’ll see you at three.’ DS Grace hung up.
Karen headed back to her desk and saw Sophie walking towards her, frowning down at a printout.
‘Sarge, I have a question.’
‘Fire away.’
‘Lloyd Nelson. Did we find a driver’s licence on him when his body was found?’
Karen thought back. ‘No, he didn’t have one on him. He had a gym card, and various bank, store and credit cards, but no driver’s licence. Why?’
‘There’s no record of him at the DVLA.’
‘Right. Maybe he never passed a test or registered a vehicle.’
‘I thought that, but Beverley said—’
Karen cut her off, suddenly remembering. ‘Beverley said Lloyd had taken her car.’
‘Exactly. And if he didn’t have a licence, he shouldn’t have been driving. I mean, I’m sure it’s not related to his murder. It’s unlikely someone killed him because he drove without a driving licence.’
‘Sophie, you’re brilliant.’
‘I am?’ Sophie looked confused as she leaned on the edge of Karen’s desk. ‘Why?’
Karen didn’t answer straightaway; she was thinking. Putting the pieces of the puzzle together. ‘What day did Beverley say Lloyd took her car?’
‘Um, Friday.’
‘Right, and what else do we know happened on Friday?’
Sophie shook her head and shrugged.
‘The hit-and-run. Samuel Pickett.’
Sophie’s jaw dropped. ‘You think Lloyd hit the boy?’
‘It’s a possibility,’ Karen said. ‘Think about it. Lloyd drives to place a bet. On his way back, he hits the kid on his bike. He doesn’t stop because he knows he’s driving illegally.’
Sophie nodded slowly. ‘And if Sam Pickett’s parents found out, they’d have been angry enough to . . .’
‘Maybe,’ Karen said. ‘It’s a motive, definitely worth looking into.’
‘Do you want me to tell DCI Churchill about this?’ Sophie said reluctantly.
‘I can do it if you’d prefer?’
‘I would, Sarge. Thanks.’
When Sophie went back to her desk, Karen reached for her mobile and tried to ring Morgan. It went straight to his voicemail. He would be with them now, offering sympathy to the Picketts. Updating them, though she knew he didn’t have much information to share with them.
Karen typed out a quick text message to Morgan and pressed send.
The phone screen was unresponsive. Karen glared at it, muttering. Had the message sent before the phone froze?
Her new mobile should be arriving tomorrow. She switched the phone off, shoved it in her pocket, and then went in search of DCI Churchill. He’d been given an office on the floor above them.
She knocked on the door and waited for Churchill to say ‘Enter.’ When she went inside, she saw one of the men from technical support tapping away on a keyboard and frowning at the computer scree
n.
‘I’m still not on the system,’ Churchill said by way of an explanation. ‘What can I do for you, DS Hart? Have you come to give me the summary report?’
‘Actually no, it’s about a possible development on the case.’ She glanced at the civilian support worker.
He looked up and smiled. ‘Don’t worry about me. I’m done here. Your username and password should work now, sir.’
Churchill thanked him, and the man left the office.
‘Sit down,’ Churchill said. ‘Have you finished the report yet?’
Karen was almost positive Sophie would have finished it by now. ‘DC Jones is just making a few finishing touches. I wanted to tell you—’
‘That’s very disappointing.’
Karen frowned. ‘What is?’
‘I asked you and DC Jones to work on the report. It’s now clear to me that you passed off your work to a junior officer.’
Technically, he was right. Though Karen didn’t think she was in the wrong by doing so. It had been a pointless duplication of work. She bit her tongue, took a deep breath and thought, What would Arnie Hodgson do?
Tell him he’s right, stroke his ego, apologise.
‘You’re right. I did ask Sophie to finish off, and I shouldn’t have done. I’m sorry.’
He blinked in surprise. ‘Okay, well, finish the report and get it back to me asap.’
‘Of course, I’ll send it to you as soon as it’s finished,’ Karen said. ‘But there’s one other thing I need to tell you.’
Churchill rested his hands on the desk and interlaced his fingers. ‘Go on.’
‘Sophie discovered that Lloyd Nelson didn’t have a driver’s licence.’
‘Why is that important?’
‘Because we know Lloyd was driving his wife’s car on Friday evening. We also know there was a local hit-and-run around the same time. A twelve-year-old boy was knocked off his bike and killed.’
‘You think Lloyd was responsible?’
‘It’s possible. I think we need to ask Forensics to examine his wife’s car.’
‘And you think Lloyd Nelson’s murder is linked to the hit-and-run in some way?’