Helen peered into the bag, the knife visible at its heart. The blood on the long blade had dried now, but its rich crimson hue and sticky sheen strongly suggested that Meredith was right.
‘OK, let’s fast-track it, please,’ Helen suggested, straightening up.
‘Of course.’
‘And let’s scour every inch of this road.’
‘Already on it.’
‘Anything, however small, I want to know about it straightaway.’
Taking her leave, Helen paced back to her bike. It was an intriguing development, which might yet lead to a breakthrough, and it was with something approaching optimism that Helen climbed onto her Kawasaki. But as she did so, her phone rang. For a moment, she thought it might be Robert Downing trying her again, but the caller ID indicated otherwise.
‘DC Malik?’
‘Boss.’
‘I’m at Lena Gardens, but on my way back now.’
‘That’s great, but I thought you’d want to know – we’ve just taken a call from the hospital …’
Helen tensed, sensing that a day that had already delivered several surprises was not done yet.
‘Apparently, there were complications with McManus when they tried to bring him out of the induced coma. He suffered multiple organ failure, which resulted in cardiac arrest. He died just after two o’clock this afternoon.’
Chapter 49
‘What’s got into you?’
Carol looked pleased, but surprised, as Belinda descended upon her, kissing her neck, her nose, her forehead.
‘Do I need a reason to seduce my girlfriend?’ Belinda countered, kissing her on the lips, even as she undid a button on her shirt.
‘No … but it’s the middle of the afternoon. I’ve got to teach soon, so have you …’
‘It won’t matter if we’re a little bit late …’
Even as she spoke, Belinda slid her hand inside Carol’s shirt, her deft fingers running over the soft fabric of her bra, seeking out her nipple. Carol reacted, aroused now, but even so she took hold of Belinda’s hand, stopping her.
‘I’m not saying it wouldn’t be nice, I just want to know what’s going on …’
‘I would have thought that was obvious,’ Belinda teased, struggling in her grip.
‘Seriously, Belinda. What’s this about?’
Reluctantly, Belinda relented, removing her hand.
Carol continued, ‘You’ve been weird and distant all week. You refuse to spend the day with me, won’t tell me why, then suddenly you burst in, out of the blue, wanting to shag my brains out. You’ll forgive me for being a little confused.’
‘You’re right and I’m sorry,’ Belinda replied, running a hand through Carol’s hair. ‘I have been a bitch. Honestly, I don’t know what’s been wrong with me.’
She was trying hard, but felt self-conscious under Carol’s shrewd gaze. Her lover had been hurt by her before, the wounds still sore, and was clearly not going to give her an easy ride.
‘I don’t know if it was pupil exam stress,’ Belinda explained, ‘or my hormones, or just my bloody mother bugging me out – probably all three. But I had no right to take it out on you, to be so distant and cold. This is just my way of saying sorry …’ Running her hand across Carol’s cheek, she chanced another gentle kiss. ‘You know I’m not very good with words, I find it hard to say the right thing.’
‘But you know how to fuck, right?’ Carol shot back. There was an edge to her voice, hurt and suspicion undercutting her desire.
‘No, I know how to love.’ Belinda let the word hang in the air, enjoying the look of surprise on Carol’s face. ‘Because I do love you, I really do. And I never want you to feel worried or anxious. I want to make your life better, happier, every single day …’ She kissed her again and this time Carol allowed it. ‘I really mean it, I want us to work – and if, you know, if you want to talk again about family, about kids …’ Belinda didn’t know where the words were coming from, hadn’t planned any of this, wasn’t sure she even meant it, but it felt right in the moment – ‘then we should do it. I want what you want, end of story.’
Now Carol kissed her back, fierce and passionate. Belinda was surprised to see tears in her partner’s eyes, but something else too. Love, burning, aching love. Responding to her touches, she tugged off her own shirt, then Carol’s. Now they were tumbling onto the bed, pulling at each other’s trousers, happily giving in to sensual abandon. Carol was biting her earlobes, kissing her nipples, caressing her tummy, now going lower still. Belinda lay back, surrendering to her lover’s desire, nestling on the soft, plump duvet – happy, elated, alive.
Perhaps everything was going to be all right, after all.
Chapter 50
The atmosphere in the room was tense. Helen had pulled the whole team back to base to bring them up to speed on the latest developments. These end-of-the day catch-ups were often incredibly productive, the various threads of the investigation weaving seamlessly together to reveal important clues or vital breakthroughs. They could be charged, adrenalized, exciting, but today the team looked like Helen felt – hot, irritable and dog-tired.
‘So Declan McManus died earlier this afternoon. Given the extent of his injuries, it was touch and go whether he was going to survive, but even so I can’t pretend that it’s not a bitter blow …’
No one present disagreed.
‘Obviously, this means it’s now a murder enquiry, with all the attendant publicity that that’s going to generate. So I want us to move fast on this one.’
A couple of team members nodded, putting their last vestiges of energy into mustering a modicum of enthusiasm, which Helen was grateful for. The team had not been pulling as one, hadn’t covered itself in glory of late, but there were still some committed, determined officers around her.
‘I’m particularly interested in Amar Goj, who until recently was a procurement manager at Southampton Children’s Hospital.’
She pinned his photo just beneath McManus’s leering face.
‘We’re now sure that he bought a Rick Owens hoodie recently – we found the receipt in a shoebox at his house. Also, Meredith’s team have confirmed that the partial footwear marks found at the crime scene match a brand that Amar Goj favoured – he had two box-fresh pairs of Philipp Plein shoes in his wardrobe at home. The search team haven’t recovered the actual shoes used during the attack, but I’m assuming he dumped those along with the hoodie.’
A couple of the team nodded, but Helen’s eye was now drawn to Joseph Hudson. He stood at the back of the group, saying nothing, his face betraying little emotion. His still, heavy presence unnerved her, but she pressed on.
‘DC Malik also uncovered something interesting during her questioning of the Goj family …’
‘Maybe something, maybe nothing, but his wife confirmed that he had refilled the petrol canister they use to supply their lawn mower three days ago. Goj has only mown the lawn once since then, but when we checked, the canister was almost empty …’
‘There could be a dozen different explanations for that,’ DC Reid responded, unimpressed.
‘True, but it’s interesting circumstantial,’ Helen countered, trying to hide her irritation at Reid’s casual dismissal of Malik’s findings. ‘And, if you’ll pardon the pun, adds further fuel to the fire.’
‘But what’s the motive?’ Hudson spoke up, finally breaking cover. ‘What’s the link between Goj and McManus?’
‘Well, that’s what we need to work out,’ Helen replied firmly. ‘I’m going to go back to Jeremy Blake, the CEO of the children’s hospital, first thing tomorrow. He seemed reluctant to co-operate with us, more interested in shielding his Hospital Trust from negative publicity. He claims he only found out about the fraud recently following an email from Alison Burris. But he’s not yet provided the email, or any other corroborative evidence to back up his account, and I’m wondering if there might be some connection between the hospital and McManus. Had they set McManus on Goj’s trail, wanting to conduct thei
r own private investigation rather than involving the police? Perhaps they wanted to deal with this entirely “in house” so that no one would be any the wiser?’
‘I don’t see it,’ Hudson said dismissively. ‘Why would they go to someone like him? A low-rent gumshoe? They’d have brought in a professional audit team, someone to do a forensic financial analysis of Goj’s work transactions, his personal spending and so on—’
‘Maybe, but we know McManus was the discreet arm of corporations and companies wishing to look into potentially criminal behaviour without getting their own hands dirty—’
‘But that was mainly insurance firms and banks, companies who regularly had to pay out because of fraudsters,’ DC Reid protested. ‘There’s no evidence that McManus worked in the healthcare sector.’
‘There’s a first time for everything, DC Reid,’ Helen shot back, just about keeping her temper in check. ‘And if McManus was keeping tabs on Goj, and he somehow got wind of that, then he’d have every motive to—’
‘I’m sorry, I just don’t buy it.’
Joseph Hudson’s tone was measured, but firm, as if he was determined to shut down Helen’s line of enquiry. And he wasn’t alone, DCs Edwards and Reid acting as loyal wingmen, helping to shoot holes in her argument. Looking at them, Helen had the distinct feeling that they had already decided on their line of attack, knew their version of events which they were intent on prosecuting. And now, right on cue, Joseph Hudson changed tack.
‘I think we should prioritize Lee Moffat.’
‘Surely we’ve been down that road,’ DC Malik responded tersely.
‘We’ve questioned him once,’ Hudson fired back. ‘And he was hostile and evasive, failing to account for his movements or the missing hoodie.’
‘That’s not enough …’
‘And we now have concrete evidence that McManus was investigating him specifically. The insurance company that was employing him sent over the reports submitted by McManus to them, reports in which he singles out Lee Moffat as the prime mover in a luxury-car-theft gang.’
Malik was silenced by this bit of news, which appeared to please Hudson.
‘Moreover,’ he continued confidently, ‘DC Edwards has turned up some interesting links to far-right organizations, who are actively targeting ethnic minorities in Southampton.’
DC Edwards distributed a printout of his earlier discoveries, the dissemination of this new lead carefully choreographed for maximum impact.
‘We’re digging down on his online activity as we speak,’ Hudson continued. ‘I’ve got the data analysts on it and if we can find a link between Moffat and Martin Hill, then we can potentially link him to three current investigations.’
‘But what’s the motive?’ DC Malik challenged, her antipathy to Hudson clear, perhaps too clear. ‘I thought he was just interested in making money.’
‘A man can be a thief and a racist, DC Malik,’ Hudson responded coolly, his eyes lingering on the young Asian officer. ‘We know he has a penchant for violence, so it’s perfectly possible that he murdered Alison Burris whilst “at work”, that he killed McManus to protect his interests and heeded Albion’s call to arms by murdering Martin Hill …’
‘It’s too much of a stretch; Moffat doesn’t have it in him,’ Helen intervened.
‘I don’t agree,’ Hudson countered quickly. ‘He’s cocky, aggressive and growing in confidence every day. I think he’s thriving off this atmosphere of lawlessness. I think he believes he can get away with anything, that he’s untouchable.’
‘He really has got under your nose, hasn’t he?’
‘He’s a vicious, amoral thug with strong motives for all three murders.’
‘With possible motives,’ Helen countered. ‘Moffat is a chancer, a thief. He hasn’t transformed into a serial killer overnight. No, something, or someone else, is responsible for these murders.’
‘Goj?’ Hudson shot back, his tone withering.
‘Goj and A.N. Other. Perhaps even someone we haven’t alighted on yet. Which is why I want us to prioritize three areas of enquiry. First, McManus’s movements. We’ve only a patchy tapestry of his activities during the last days of his life. I want more detail on these, to see if there was a specific trigger for his murder. Second, his connection to the children’s hospital – is there any evidence McManus had worked for them, previously or currently—’
Hudson shook his head slowly, theatrically, but Helen pressed on, ignoring him.
‘And finally, Lilah Hill. We know she and Martin were racially abused outside the Marquee Bar in Queen’s Street a month ago. The identities of the perpetrators are on file and obviously our first priority is to talk to them about today’s attack, to interrogate their movements, their recent call history … but I think there were also problems in Lilah’s relationship with Martin and I want to know more. Did she have a motive? Was she seeing someone else? Had Martin threatened her in the past? Let’s focus on these three areas and see what we can turn up. Everyone clear?’
Helen was keen to conclude the meeting, but Joseph Hudson had other ideas.
‘Crystal clear, but I want to put on record my strong objection to the direction of this investigation. I think we are dismissing a very credible suspect, in order to follow up fanciful notions of Goj as an arsonist and a killer.’
Helen tried to interrupt, but Joseph talked over her.
‘And I should say that several other members of the team feel exactly the same way as me.’
No one moved, no one spoke up in support, but they didn’t have to. DC Edwards, DC Reid, even DC McAndrew were grouped around Hudson, silently providing support and affirmation.
‘Be that as it may, I am the SIO in this room,’ Helen hit back. ‘And these are the lines of investigation we will be following. I expect every officer to do so willingly, vigorously and to the best of their abilities, or they’ll have me to answer to. There have been too many breakdowns in protocol recently, too many lines of investigation pursued without my knowledge or authorization and it stops today.’
She ran an eye over Hudson, then Edwards, Reid and McAndrew in turn. The last of these at least had the wit to lower her head in embarrassment.
‘Anyhow, it’s late now and it’s been a long day. Go home, get some sleep and be back here, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, first thing in the morning. Meeting adjourned.’
Turning, Helen strode back to her office, determined not to get drawn into further arguments. She could hear the buzz of reaction, whispered exchanges, even the odd expletive, but she had no desire to get sucked into the fallout. The meeting had not gone well and it was better to draw it to a close than risk a full-on confrontation with Hudson, not least because she had no idea who would win such an encounter. Yes, she had carried the day, but she’d had to pull rank in order to do so, which left her feeling profoundly uncomfortable. She had never had to do so before, reliant on the loyalty and good sense of her team, but now, with rival power blocks forming, and Hudson determinedly recruiting fresh allies, she’d been left with little choice. She knew, though, that this displayed her vulnerability, weakness even, rather than her strength. She was still in charge of the team, still determined to drive the investigation forward, but there was no doubt now that her position was under threat.
Mutiny was in the air.
Chapter 51
‘If you don’t go to bed right now, there will be serious trouble …’
Robert’s grim warning seemed to cut no ice, Freddie and Joshua continuing to bounce on their beds, their bare feet dirtying the pristine sheets.
‘Come on, guys, please. You’re making an awful mess here …’
His voice was weary, laced with irritation, but still the bouncing continued.
‘Look at the clock, it’s way past your bedtime. Clothes off, teeth, then bed, please …’
Now they swapped beds, leaping across the divide to continue bouncing.
‘I’m warning you …’
They cocked their head
s, as if mocking his ability to discipline them. He was seriously tempted to shout at them, but wisdom prevailed and he changed tack.
‘I’ll smack your bottoms …’
Much giggling at the mention of that word.
‘I’ll hang you out the window by your ankles …’
Now they paused, seemingly excited by this idea.
‘OK, forget that, I want you in to bed in two minutes – or there’ll be no Xbox tomorrow.’
And now his words seem to cut through.
‘Really?’
‘Not a single minute.’
That decided matters, the two six-year-old boys jumping off their beds and racing to the bathroom. Miraculously, one minute and fifty-five seconds later, they were back in bed, pyjamas on and teeth brushed. Their feet were still dirty, but that was one of the few benefits of being a single parent – you could set your own standards of hygiene.
Switching off the main light, Robert knelt down between their beds. Kissing one, then the other, he said: ‘Straight to sleep now. And if you’re lucky, I might let you play Fortnite whilst eating your Cheerios in the morning …’
Tucking them in, he kissed them again, then retreated to the doorway. Pulling it gently closed, he stole a look back. To his immense surprise, they already seemed to be asleep. Bathed in the soft glow of their night lights, they seemed relaxed, calm, totally at peace. When do we lose that, he wondered, that ability to sleep easily at night, without a care in the world? It’s a precious gift, lost before it’s fully appreciated, then gone forever.
Resting his cheek on the door, he stared at his boys, enraptured by the sight of them. It had been a deeply troubling day, fraught with anxiety, confusion and fear, but as he stared at Freddie and Joshua slumbering in their beds, he felt none of these things. He felt only love: deep, all-consuming love.
One last look, then he turned away, padding across the landing and down the stairs. As he did so, he retrieved his phone from his pocket. Staring at it a minute, he hesitated briefly, then made his decision, holding the power button down firmly until the screen went blank.
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