Payback

by R. C. Bridgestock

  The quickness of her step caused her shoes to make tiny, sharp squeaking sounds on the tiled floor in the hospital’s entrance hall. Swiftly, she turned a corner. The corridor ahead was long, straight and narrow. The sun shone brightly through the sealed half-wall of windows, which made it feel extra-warm and very humid. En route she took off her coat, rolled up her sleeves and undid a few buttons of her shirt, as a variety of trolleys clanked along past her, some with people on board, others carrying magazines, beverages, sweets and biscuits. There were voices talking on mobile phones, some hushed, others shouting, even laughing. She looked upwards to read sign after sign, went past ward after ward and traipsed along corridor after corridor, until finally, right at the end, some closed double doors awaited her and through them she found the nurses’ station.

  In contrast to the noisy corridor, the sounds emanating from the ward as she stood waiting for a staff member to appear were soothing. The gentle bleep, bleep of monitors, the quiet scrape of nurses’ shoes and the muted voices lulled her into a more relaxed state.

  ‘What can I do for you?’ asked a cheerful, loud, friendly voice.

  Charley jumped and turned towards the voice, instinctively offering her hand towards the man dressed in nurse’s garb. ‘Detective Inspector Charley Ma–’ Their eyes locked. He looked blank for just a second, but then his shoulders hunched and his jaw tightened. ‘Mon ange?’ he said. Immediately he questioned the words and his gaze dropped away from her. Charley’s racing heart juddered. How could she ever forget those striking green eyes?

  ‘Ruby?’ she whispered so low that no one else would hear.

  Ruby sat and focused on the computer. ‘An update on Wilkie Connor, I presume?’

  ‘It is, isn’t it?’

  Ruby’s shoulders dropped. He leaned forward, a flush to his face, rolled his eyes and groaned. ‘Awkward,’ he said, showing a dimple in his cheek. ‘Funnily enough, it’s usually Rubin that gets “clocked”, not the other way round.’

  ‘And, of course, I don’t make a habit of visiting…’ Charley said with a shake of her head.

  ‘’Course you don’t,’ the nurse said with a quick smile. ‘Look, I’m hardly likely to tell anyone if you don’t.’

  Charley’s relief was palpable. ‘It goes without saying…’

  ‘Now, let’s start again, shall we? I’m Nurse Rubin and I guess you’re wanting to know how your Detective Constable Wilkie Connor is faring?’ His animated facial expressions turned into the familiar professional mask. He raised his eyebrows and his voice was hushed. He looked about them before edging closer. ‘Just between you and me?’

  Her eyes didn’t leave Rubin’s face and she nodded.

  ‘He’s been taken to ICU, presently breathing with the aid of a ventilator, in an induced coma.’

  ‘Will he make it?’

  ‘The next few hours are critical.’

  ‘Can I see him?’

  Rubin shook his head and grimaced. ‘I’m sorry, only his closest family are allowed in right now.’

  Charley’s face fell. ‘It’s just that I feel so responsible…’ she said, her voice cracking.

  ‘Tell you what. Give me your number and I’ll let you know as soon as he can have visitors – and, I’ll keep you updated on his progress.’

  Charley sucked in a breath and gave him a smile. ‘Thanks, that’s very kind.’

  On her journey back to the police station she was able to update Mike and he her. Charley wanted to know who Wilkie had been going to meet when he had been struck by a car.

  ‘A call came into the incident room this morning. He was on his way to see an anonymous informant who stated they had information about the murders.’

  ‘Why was he alone?’

  ‘The caller insisted on it.’

  ‘Who took the call?’

  ‘Tattie did and all we know is that it was a male who made the call from a call box.’

  ‘And we’re in the process of…’

  ‘Yes, yes, trying to get a location for that call.’ The line was silent for a moment or two. ‘I discussed it with him before he left. We talked about me going with him, but we’re chasing the custody clock with Myers and Wilkie didn’t seem to see going alone as a problem. In fact, he was more than happy; he doesn’t get a lot of time out. He often uses times like that to pop in and check on Fran, so I didn’t question it.’

  ‘Please don’t beat yourself up. Let’s face it, it could have been the two of you in hospital if you’d gone together. Accidents do happen.’

  ‘But that’s just it, the traffic lads are suggesting it may not have been an accident.’

  Charley’s eyes were fixed upon the car in front. She listened intently. It was raining, but only gently. Her mood was tranquil, or was it just that she was emotionally drained?

  ‘The car that hit Wilkie apparently mounted the pavement. There is no CCTV at the location and, as it was at the caller’s request that they met there, it does seem highly suspicious don’t you think?’

  ‘No speed cameras, mobile units or ANPR? God forbid!’ She looked up to the sky from where the dispersing moisture fell. It was dove-grey.

  ‘We’ve got that line of enquiry already covered,’ he said.

  ‘Witnesses?’

  ‘It appears not. Or, none that have come forward yet.’

  There was silence.

  ‘What’re you thinking?’ he said.

  ‘I’m thinking he has a bottle of whisky delivered and then this … Can you think of anyone who might have it in for him?’

  Charley could hear the smile in his voice. ‘He’s a gobshite. Everyone knows he’s a gobshite, but he’s got a good heart,’ he said. ‘I don’t know anyone who would do this to him, no.’

  ‘Then could it be that someone is trying to silence him, or divert our attention away from the investigation?’

  ‘Could be, but it’s a bit over the top to mow someone down just to try and take our eye off the ball, don’t you think?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know. If you’ve already committed murder once or twice, then maybe the collateral damage is done … I’ll be with you in ten. I can’t do any more at the hospital. They won’t let me see him … and I assume his wife is with him.’

  ‘Do you think we need to get a uniform on guard outside the ICU department, for his protection. If it was a deliberate act, then whoever it is that’s trying to get to him might try again.’

  ‘Good point, I’ll have a word with uniform when I get back to the nick.’ There was silence. ‘Oh, and Mike,’ she said.

  ‘Yes, boss?’

  ‘Get t’kettle on, will you. I’m parched.’

  The pavements and roadway were darkened by the wetness, but the leaves on the trees glistened and the grass on the verges somehow seemed greener. A flash of sudden emotion brought a tear to Charley’s eye. Although she would put the perpetrator before the court – and she had never been more determined to catch her man, the person who had done this to Wilkie – she knew she would be handing it to others to determine the sentence, no matter if it hadn’t been a deliberate act by the person responsible, who may have been using their mobile phone, drunk or on drugs at the time of the incident. A car was no different to a loaded weapon in her eyes. She swallowed hard to get rid of the lump in her throat. At a recent meeting she had suggested that offenders’ cars should be seized immediately, along with the mobile phones they’d been using – and they shouldn’t get them back either. The idea hadn’t gone down well, but something needed to be done to reduce road fatalities and why shouldn’t the offender pay?

  The car in front turned right at the traffic lights and she turned left. The action broke her reverie. If it was the case that Wilkie Connor being knocked down had been a deliberate act, then she had an attempted murder on one of her officers to investigate, as well as the two existing murders. They couldn’t speak to the DC yet, but the anonymous phone call was a starting point. If the public telephone box where the phone call had been made could be tra
ced, maybe there was also a chance it was covered by CCTV. Her spirits rose at the thought and, having parked her car, she made her way to the incident room feeling more focused. She noticed the rain had ceased and that a soft, blurred light seemed to be spreading over the back yard of the police station. She raced up the steps to the incident room two at a time.

  There was a mug of hot coffee waiting on her desk, along with a plate of biscuits. The team were eager to hear her news of Wilkie Connor and they too had news. ‘Myers has been to the Magistrates’ Court and remanded to the cells for a maximum of a further seventy-two hours in custody. In the end, Michael Parish made no objections to our request,’ said Annie.

  Charley’s eyes fixed on the young DC. ‘I want the photograph that includes the image of the shoe blown up to A4 size. We must keep this information close to our chest. If the person doesn’t realise their footwear has been captured in a picture, then they won’t be intent on destroying the shoes. This could be their downfall.’

  Ricky-Lee sat in the background, his eyes on the computer screen. He was in deep conversation with someone on the telephone, his elbow on the table, his hand to his brow. ‘A large number of the films that Solomon had in his possession depicted brutal rape scenes, strangulation,’ he told Charley when he’d put the phone down. ‘There are scenes of people being hung by their feet.’

  ‘Do you think this is where the idea to hang Kylie came from?’ asked Annie.

  Charley shrugged her shoulders. ‘Do we know where the films were purchased? If he bought them, he would have needed a method of payment. Do we know if he has a bank account? He didn’t have any bank cards on his person when he was arrested.’

  ‘We didn’t find any at his flat, just a lone ten-pound note in his wallet. No credit cards, no bank statements. But that doesn’t prove anything.’

  ‘Maybe Mr Gibson could help us? He pays his wages.’ Annie raised her eyebrows at the others.

  ‘Make asking him a priority. Myers’ financial profile could help us.’

  Annie was scanning through images that had been located on the films, depicting the scenes he may have used as inspiration for the murders. Charley saw her put her elbows on the desk and her head in her heads. She put a hand on her shoulder. ‘If it’s getting too much, I can always get someone to take over.’

  Annie turned, ‘No, it’s OK. But tell me something. How long will I do this job before I begin to understand?’

  ‘Understand what?’

  ‘Understand how anyone in their right mind could be excited by this sort of thing?’

  Charley afforded herself a smile as she sat. ‘Never! When you think you’ve seen it all, but there doesn’t appear to be an explanation for a murder, my experience tells me it’s usually sexually motivated. Sex offenders are not normal. Sex offenders are excited by, and do things, that a normal person wouldn’t even contemplate, and that’s what makes them so dangerous, because not even in our wildest nightmares could we ever imagine what extremes they will go to for their gratification.’

  Annie looked momentarily relieved.

  ‘All any of us can do is deal with the facts and see what transpires; that’s my approach.’

  ‘My cousin, she says she’s seen it all. She’s a nurse. She works in casualty. I thought she’d made up the stories she told me until now…’

  Charley shook her head. ‘Ah, the “accidents” that occur with perverse sexual activities! Yeah, I’ve taken a few to casualty myself.’

  ‘Do you think Solomon fits into this category?’

  ‘I don’t know. Maybe. Or maybe there is someone else telling him what to do and how to do it.’

  ‘Why?’

  Charley shrugged her shoulders.

  ‘Do you think the victims are chosen at random?’

  ‘Who the hell knows? I wish I knew how and why.’

  Heads turned as the door of the incident room slammed behind Mike.

  ‘Boss, Danny Ray’s been asking to have more info on the hit-and-run involving a police officer and Connie’s chasing you too, about the same thing,’ he said, his eyes on Charley as he walked in her direction.

  Charley put the palms of her hands on the desk and raised herself slowly from the chair. ‘I’ll talk to Connie, then she can speak with the media.’ Her eyes looked from Annie’s face up to the ceiling. ‘How is it that bad news always travels more quickly than the good, eh?’ she said.

  Annie gave her a half-smile and continued with the job in hand. Mike followed the DI into her office.

  ‘We need to open a HOLMES account for the attempted murder of Wilkie. Any news on the origin of the whisky, or our anonymous caller?’

  Mike shook his head. His face was grave. ‘No.’

  ‘Do you know if the fingerprint bureau checked the thank-you card that came with the whisky? And, if so, did they get a hit?’

  Mike shrugged his shoulders. ‘Don’t know.’

  ‘Ask. If not, I want them to make it their priority. I’ll have to go and update the Divisional Commander. I’m sure he already thinks I’m a Jonah. God knows what he’ll think now that one of his officers has been mowed down.’ She looked out into the office. ‘Solomon Myers needs interviewing; I want Annie and Ricky-Lee to do this one and I’ll observe. Can you organise that for me?’

  There was no need for her to seek the Divisional Commander Brian Roper out, as it happened, because, as if saying his name could conjure him up, he appeared at her office door.

  Mike nodded at him as he left and Roper walked in and closed the door behind him.

  ‘If Mohammed won’t come to the mountain, Inspector,’ he said, raising an eyebrow. He sat down facing her, his expression one of concern. ‘I’m upset and extremely annoyed that one of my officers has been targeted. I’d like to front the media on this one, if you don’t mind?’

  Charley nodded. ‘Sir.’

  ‘I’ve made arrangements to go and see him as soon as I can. He’s still unconscious, I understand?’

  Again, Charley nodded her head. ‘He is, as far as I’m aware.’

  ‘I’ve also arranged a press conference.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, sincerely. ‘That will enable me to get on with the investigation.’

  ‘Your thoughts, Inspector?’

  ‘I think DC Connor was set up. Someone telephoned the incident room anonymously suggesting they had information and expressing a wish to meet with him alone. Prior to that he’d received a bottle of whisky with a thank-you card attached. Again, we don’t know who that was from and neither did he.’

  Roper scowled. ‘Connected to the murders do you think?’

  ‘I’d like to think they were separate incidents, but the connection to the incident room and the timing makes me think otherwise.’

  ‘Tell me,’ he said, leaning in, ‘how are you doing with the pillock in the cells?’

  ‘Typically “no comment” at the moment, sir. They’re just about to start another interview with him. What we are confident about is that someone else is involved, but as yet we don’t know who that is.’ Charley took a deep breath. ‘But we’ll find them, I’m confident of that.’

  Roper stood. ‘I’ll leave you to it.’ There was a flash of teasing in his eyes. ‘I need to work on my speech. Maybe even a quick haircut before the cameras arrive?’

  Charley was left shaking her head. How did that man’s mind work? It was all about him, his image; nothing had changed. But her heart felt somewhat lighter. The weight of the police rank that Roper held alone would give the appeal some credence. It was her hope that someone would come forward with information about the offender and the vehicle they had been driving at the time.

  The screen on her desk showed Charley that Myers’ solicitor Michael Parish, and Solomon Myers himself, had entered the interview room. She turned up the volume. Slouched in the chair, from beneath drooping, sly eyelids Solomon looked across the table at the officers. His opening reply to the first question was what they had become accustomed to – no comment
– but subsequently his answer was a wall of silence. The officers were not distracted. Systematically they went through the previously discussed line of questions, which gave Solomon Myers every opportunity to respond. In this, the fourth interview, the prisoner appeared more controlled, more confident. Was this due to the fact there’d been a change in the interviewers, with the boss out of the picture – or so he might think? His gaze was fixed on the wall beyond Annie and Ricky-Lee. His expression gave little away. Inwardly, Charley wondered if the solicitor’s advice had calmed his state of mind, or was this façade just an act and was he still conspiring, but in secret? Charley had specifically asked the interviewing team to end the interview by asking Myers if he knew Detective Wilkie Connor and she was eager to hear his reply. Why, when there was no comment, did she feel so deflated? What did she expect from him, a confession? For him to start talking now? Michael Parish nodded at Solomon, as if in approval of his conduct throughout the interview. Myers smiled back. Was this the stance of someone who realised his freedom was possible if he only trusted his brief?