The Rules of Murder

by The Rules of Murder (retail) (epub)

  Dani winced at the words. ‘You didn’t believe that though,’ she said.

  ‘No. I didn’t. I believed Ben had more deep-rooted problems, but just because I believed both he and Damian passed those four legal tests, it didn’t mean Ben’s and Damian’s positions were in any way the same either.’

  ‘Do you think it’s a coincidence that Ben Stephens and Damian Curtis, both of whom you helped to defend, and, I guess, you could say whom you failed to defend, wound up in the same cell?’ Easton asked.

  Now it was Collins’s turn to wince. How did it make her feel to know that two men she’d tried to defend ended up in jail rather than in hospital? Guilt? Shame? Anguish?

  ‘What does that even mean?’ Collins said. ‘Are you suggesting there’s an alternative explanation, other than it being pure coincidence? You realise there are plenty of other cases where I’ve testified in court too? Have you analysed every one of those defendants to identify any subsequent interaction within or without the prison system?’

  Dani looked to Easton and could tell he was chewing on that response, not quite sure where to take the line of questioning next. The answer was, they hadn’t done that research. Should they?

  ‘When was the last time you saw Curtis?’ Dani asked.

  Collins sighed and reached forwards for her mouse and clicked away for a few seconds as she stared at her computer screen.

  ‘Just over two months ago,’ she said. ‘At that point, his legal team were beginning preparations for his parole hearing. The fact that went so well obviously meant that they had no more need for my services.’

  ‘It wasn’t required as part of his parole that he continue seeing a psychiatrist?’ Dani said.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Collins said. ‘He wasn’t seeing me for reasons of psychotherapy but in relation to his legal case. I have no idea what the terms of his parole were.’

  ‘And that was OK by you?’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘You’ve just spent some time explaining to us how this man has suffered mentally for years, and you were aware that he was to be released on parole, yet rather than check what safeguarding conditions were put in place in relation to his ongoing mental health, you just walked away?’

  ‘I’m not sure that’s fair, DI Stephens, I—’

  ‘Even after his actions had caused the death of his girlfriend and her son? Do you not have a professional duty to—’

  ‘I’d appreciate it if you didn’t bring my professionalism into this,’ Collins said, her face reddening with anger. ‘Whatever you might think, I did my best by Damian Curtis.’

  ‘Except you knew he was psychotic and you washed your hands of him the moment he was released into the public.’

  ‘Detective, this is ridiculous. How dare you—’

  ‘Did you believe Damian Curtis represented an ongoing threat to the public?’ Dani asked.

  ‘That’s not a question I was ever asked to consider.’

  ‘I’m asking you to consider it now.’

  ‘But it’s not a question I can answer off the cuff.’

  ‘Of course it is. Though it’s quite telling that you won’t.’

  Collins was now fuming. Dani didn’t care. Against her better judgement, Dani had come to this meeting with a chip on her shoulder. This woman, after all, had tried to defend her brother’s actions in court, and rightly or wrongly, Dani did feel bitter about that.

  ‘OK. Then I will answer it for you,’ Collins said. ‘Yes, I believed Damian Curtis’s psychosis was an ongoing problem that, if left untreated, could lead to a further degradation in his mental wellbeing.’

  ‘What the hell does that even mean?’ Dani said. ‘So you’re saying he was a risk?’

  ‘I’ve given you my answer.’

  ‘So why didn’t you do anything to help him?’

  ‘I’ve done everything I can to help him,’ Collins said, sounding more and more irate.

  ‘Except now we have a recently paroled offender with a history of mental health issues who in the last week we have linked to two very serious and extremely violent murders.’

  Collins shook her head and opened her mouth but said nothing. Her face went a shade paler.

  ‘Do you have any knowledge of why Damian Curtis would kill Oscar Redfearne or Mary Deville?’

  ‘I… I don’t even know those people.’

  ‘Mary Deville was the judge at Curtis’s trial. So you do know her.’

  Her face was even paler now.

  ‘Had Curtis ever talked to you about wanting to kill people?’ Dani asked.

  ‘No. Not at all.’ She was shaking her head again. She looked shocked now. Were the ramifications of her lack of action hitting home?

  ‘Did he ever talk about wanting to get revenge?’

  ‘Revenge? On whom?’

  ‘On anyone. You said he believed people were after him. How about them, whoever they are?’

  ‘He was paranoid, yes, but… I have no explanation for what you’re suggesting.’

  ‘So, in your professional opinion, you can’t correlate Curtis’s actions in allegedly killing two people this week to the mental health problems you know he was suffering from?’

  ‘That’s… that’s not an easy question to answer. But on the face of it… look, if Damian Curtis is responsible for those two murders, then there must be some other trigger still.’

  ‘Could he have been faking it?’ Easton asked.

  ‘Faking what?’

  ‘Everything you’ve just talked about. The depression, the psychosis, the voices?’

  ‘You realise how ludicrous that sounds?’

  ‘But possible?’

  ‘And isn’t that basically what the prosecution witness said at my brother’s trial?’ Dani said.

  ‘I thought we’d moved on from Ben? And to come back to DS Easton’s question: is it possible Damian was faking it? Yes, it’s possible. Feasible? Not at all.’

  ‘But you do agree it’s possible,’ Easton said again. ‘That perhaps he made up all the mental health crap to try and get off a murder charge. He’s not suffering psychosis. He’s not a paranoid schizophrenic. He’s an out and out sociopath.’

  Collins glared at Easton for a few seconds but said nothing.

  ‘Dr Collins?’ Dani prompted.

  ‘That theory is as outlandish as it is unlikely. Quite frankly I’m surprised you think it warrants a response from me.’

  ‘So you don’t think Curtis is a sociopath?’ Dani asked.

  ‘I think I’m just about done with these baseless questions now.’

  ‘Can you answer the question?’ Dani said.

  ‘Detectives, it’s time for you to leave.’

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  ‘I can’t work out if she’s lying about something or if she’s just trying to protect her own skin,’ Easton said as he and Dani strode back down Colmore Row heading for HQ. The sun blazed down on them and even with just a cotton blouse and thin linen trousers on, Dani was sweating as they headed along. What she needed was a long, iced drink. Perhaps with vodka in it. All the talk of mental health and Ben had exhausted her.

  ‘I can’t see any reason for her to lie about anything we asked about,’ Dani said.

  ‘You can’t?’ Easton said. ‘How about because she doesn’t even believe half the stuff she testifies about? How much do you reckon she gets paid for one of those gigs? Talk about a bloody conflict of interest. She said it herself. Curtis and Ben are nothing alike in their circumstances, yet she testified in court for both of them that the cause of their actions was basically the same. When it all boils down, she said what the people who employed her wanted to hear.’

  Dani didn’t say anything to that. Was that a likely explanation for Collins’s apparent unease at some of the questions she was asked? She guessed it would be interesting to see how much Collins was paid for each case. Curtis’s defence was covered by Legal Aid, so Collins’s remuneration for that case would have been limited somewhat by sta
tutory guidelines, but Ben’s case was funded by that slimeball Daley, who’d only charged Ben a pittance because of his desire for publicity, and who knew how much had been ploughed into that? Not that it had paid off, in the end, but Daley’s clout was a possible explanation for why the CPS had themselves put up a bigger counterargument in Ben’s case, with contradictory expert testimony.

  ‘She didn’t really help much, did she?’ Easton said, sounding disheartened now.

  ‘Help what? Us?’

  ‘Yeah. This investigation.’

  ‘No. But we do have a better idea now of Curtis’s history at least.’

  ‘Except Collins basically said she can’t reconcile what she knows of him to these murders. That he never talked about killing. Even after opening by saying how disturbed he was.’

  ‘True.’

  ‘So what are we missing about Curtis?’

  ‘I really don’t know.’

  And that was perhaps what worried her the most.

  * * *

  By two p.m., the third team meeting of the week was well underway. As always, Dani had opened up by discussing the key findings of the case, though there really wasn’t much since the last time they’d all met. McNair was absent this time. Was that because she felt the lack of tangible progress meant it was a waste of her time?

  ‘How many more witnesses are there to track down from the Redfearnes’ party?’ Dani asked.

  ‘Less than ten,’ DC Grayling responded. ‘We haven’t managed to speak to them all in person, but we do have signed statements through the lawyers for those that we couldn’t get to see.’

  Dani shook her head, but she believed for now that was sufficient. As far as she was concerned, Curtis was Oscar’s killer. She didn’t know why Curtis had done it, but insisting on hauling in an international footballer, a lord, or whoever else was on the guest list, to make a likely blank statement saying they knew nothing, was probably unnecessary given there was no other evidence that any of the guests was involved in Oscar’s death.

  Of course the question remained as to what other less than salubrious activities had taken place at the Redfearnes’ party, but for now that wasn’t Dani’s priority.

  ‘All the statements we’ve taken should be uploaded to HOLMES by the end of tomorrow,’ Grayling said, ‘but on the face of it, the gist is that no one saw or heard anything untoward.’

  Which was really pretty damn useless, Dani thought, but they’d had to cross everyone off, one way or another.

  ‘What about the link between the Devilles and the Redfearnes?’

  ‘There really isn’t much,’ Grayling said. ‘Yes, we’ve found some evidence that Mary Deville had provided some support for charitable activities that Caroline Redfearne ran in the past, so the two must have met, but I’ve spoken to both Caroline Redfearne and Pamela Longbridge and neither of them say they knew the Devilles socially.’

  ‘So the Devilles weren’t ever at one of these parties?’

  ‘Not according to what I’ve been told.’

  Would the Redfearnes lie about that? Dani would have a think about that. The link between the two families, however small, was still there.

  ‘And the follow-up with Sophie Blackwood’s friends and family?’

  ‘It’s not turned up anything at all,’ said DS Kitsch, looking glum about that fact. ‘And there’s been no movement in her bank accounts, no access to her email or social media accounts or anything like that.’

  Dani was increasingly coming to the conclusion that she was already dead. Why would Curtis be keeping her alive after all? But she wouldn’t stop in the efforts to find her. Not until they were absolutely certain.

  ‘And on Curtis?’ Dani asked.

  ‘Similar,’ Kitsch said. ‘Father hasn’t seen him since his release, and actually not since his imprisonment. We’ve still got an unmarked car outside his father’s home just in case, but this morning I’ve been fielding some pushback from Derbyshire who are unhappy with the waste of their resources.’

  ‘I couldn’t give a toss,’ Dani said. ‘Until we find Curtis tell them to keep on it.’

  Kitsch nodded though didn’t look impressed that he’d have to do the pushback.

  ‘What about prison visits?’ Dani asked.

  ‘He never had any, apart from his lawyer and his psychiatrist.’

  Which Dani already knew about. So who was helping Curtis, and how, and why?

  ‘You were also going to speak to his parole officer?’ Dani said.

  ‘I did,’ Kitsch said. ‘Nothing to tell. The address we raided was the only one on file. Curtis had kept up his scheduled appointments, and was last seen a couple of weeks ago. The phone number on file for him was a burner phone that’s now run out of battery, or credits or both. Not sure where else we go with that one.’

  No, and neither was Dani, much to her increasing frustration.

  ‘He must be staying somewhere. And he must be getting cash from somewhere?’

  The room remained silent.

  ‘His face is all over the bloody news,’ Dani said. ‘How can we not find one man?’

  No attempt at an answer from anyone in the room, even though she hadn’t meant it as rhetorical.

  Not long after, Dani closed the meeting down and came out of the room after everyone else, feeling about as demoralised as ever.

  * * *

  The rest of the day passed by in growing frustration, and by the time she made it home that night, a little after six p.m., she’d already decided she needed a stiff drink or two to take the edge off her bad mood. The house was eerily empty as she stepped inside. Together with the lack of progress on the murder case, the emptiness at home left her feeling isolated and alone and downright miserable. When her phone vibrated with an incoming call, even seeing who was calling did little to lift her mood.

  ‘Hey,’ Dani said.

  ‘You OK?’ Jason said.

  ‘Not really.’

  ‘Talk to me.’

  Dani did so. At length.

  ‘You’re doing everything right,’ Jason said. ‘You need to stop beating yourself up.’

  ‘They why does none of this make sense?’ Dani said.

  ‘It doesn’t even need to. All you have to do is find Curtis.’

  Which was true. Jason always saw these things with such black and white clarity. Yet his simple answer really didn’t sit easily with Dani. She had to know why. She had to understand how Ben was involved. It wasn’t good enough to Dani to just find Curtis and congratulate themselves for taking a killer off the streets.

  But why not?

  ‘I’ll be back tomorrow night,’ Jason said. ‘I’ll take you out somewhere. Where do you fancy?’

  ‘Somewhere we can get gallons of cocktails,’ Dani said.

  Jason sighed. ‘Dani, you’re not—’

  ‘I’ve got to go,’ she said, before hitting the red button to kill the call.

  She didn’t need his advice on what was and wasn’t good for her. She’d heard it all before. She went to fix herself another drink. Half an hour later, when it was clear the vodka wasn’t doing the job of making her feel better on its own, Dani knew there was only one other solution. The medicine cabinet. As miserable as that in itself made her feel.

  For hours afterward, Dani sat in silence in the lounge, steadily drinking as she stared out of the window to their overgrown garden. How the hell were she and Jason supposed to find the time to deal with that on top of everything else?

  Front of mind for Dani was not just Damian Curtis and what else the police could do to catch him, but the many elements of her own life that were still so far from perfect; Ben, Gemma, the kids, her own mental health. Her home life?

  It certainly hadn’t escaped her attention during the meeting with Dr Collins that morning that Dani herself had been seeing a psychiatrist ever since she’d suffered her brain injury. Her fall into mental health anguish had a clear trigger at least. What about Curtis? Dani simply couldn’t reconcile Collins’s mixed
responses about Curtis to the two killings they were investigating, nor to Ben’s claim that he had information about Curtis that could help the police.

  What was she not seeing?

  More importantly, what was the truth about the situation, because there were so many conflicting possibilities and explanations?

  Dani had no clue.

  But she did have a very clear idea of how she could get to the bottom of it all. Ben. Somehow or other, she had to do everything she could to get him to talk.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  It’s still light outside when I arrive at the warehouse at nearly nine p.m., and it doesn’t feel like night time is near, but it’s been a long day and my body aches and my head is fuzzy and I want nothing more than to take the edge off with some whisky, and then pass out for a few hours. Alcohol is the best way of me achieving undisturbed sleep – no voices, no rats, no nightmares – even if I often regret it come morning.

  But I’m not going to get the chance to sleep just yet.

  I look around me. There’s no one in sight in the derelict back alley, and I slide the loading door open a couple of feet, having to use all of my strength to move it on its rusted and misshapen sliders.

  Once inside, I close the door behind me and I’m plunged into near darkness, the only illumination coming from the grimy Perspex panels high up in the roof. I’m sure I hear her murmuring from inside the van, likely triggered by the sound of my entrance.

  I flick the main lights on and head over to the van. I unlock the back doors and stare inside. Sophie, as always, has pushed her body into the far corner. But she’s not slumped this time. She’s sitting straight up on the bench and her eyes are open – as much as they can be with the swelling from when I booted her in the face – and she’s looking right at me.

  ‘Hi,’ I say.

  She says nothing in response, but there’s something about the way she’s looking at me. Almost like she’s been waiting for my return. It’s Thursday now. She’s been here since Saturday night, so I guess we’re getting into something of a routine. There’s no sobbing or pleading or screaming to leave the van any more. Maybe she saves all that for when I’m not here. Not that anyone would hear her, so she can scream all she wants.