Chapter 60
Helen hurried to her Kawasaki, sliding onto the saddle and firing up the ignition. Flicking off the brake, she eased away down the drive, watched carefully by the school secretary. The old woman scented trouble and, following her interview with Belinda Raeburn, so did Helen.
Two murders had been committed in Southampton in the last four days, deaths which seemed to defy logic. Both were very well planned, but amateurish in execution, Amar Goj and Belinda Raeburn bungling their escapes, drawing attention to themselves in the process. These mistakes highlighted their lack of experience – neither Goj nor Raeburn had any previous record of violence. So what had suddenly possessed them to commit murder?
This was the other peculiarity. Neither seemed to have any motive for the attack. Goj had no historical connection to McManus and, as far as they could ascertain, wasn’t currently being investigated by the private detective. So what did he stand to gain by killing him? Likewise, Belinda Raeburn, whose communications history showed no contact with Martin Hill, who didn’t overlap professionally or personally with the victim and who, on the face of it, had no truck with racism of any kind. Yet Helen was convinced she’d stabbed Hill to death – her feeble alibi and defensive body language adding fuel to Helen’s suspicions. Was she then also responsible for the abusive phone calls, the foul graffiti? It seemed unlikely, improbable, perhaps, but what other explanation could there be?
Tapping her Bluetooth, Helen dialled the incident room as she sped away down the drive.
‘McAndrew, incident room.’
‘Ellie, it’s me. I need you to do something.’
‘Sure thing.’
‘I want us to go back over everything we have on Eve Sutcliffe …’
‘OK …’ McAndrew said, surprised by Helen’s desire to return to a case that had hit the buffers.
‘Specifically, I want us to look for any connections between Eve Sutcliffe and Belinda Raeburn. Raeburn taught her, had prepped her for her GCSE exam, but I want to scratch beneath the surface, see what we turn up.’
‘I’ll get onto it right away.’
‘Thank you. Quick as you can, please.’
Clicking off, Helen continued her progress towards the school gates, lost in thought. On the face of it, the two murders appeared random, inexplicable even, but Helen was intrigued and alarmed by a possible link which now presented itself. Amar Goj gained nothing from McManus’s murder, but could have stood to gain from the death of Alison Burris, who’d been stabbed to death in a city centre car park ten days earlier. Likewise, Raeburn’s attack on Hill seemed utterly out of character and without purpose, yet she knew Eve Sutcliffe, the victim of a brutal, apparently sexually motivated attack in Lakeside Country Park eight days ago. Was it possible that Raeburn was somehow involved, perhaps had even ordered the young girl’s murder?
It seemed a crazy notion, yet the coincidence was curious, to say the least. Of course, this potential line of investigation threw up as many problems as possibilities. There were so many moving parts, so many missing pieces of the jigsaw, that at present it was impossible to say how – if – the whole thing knitted together. Yet it was clear to Helen that something was badly wrong, that there were forces at work in Southampton compelling ordinary citizens to commit murder. As she roared down the gravel drive, Helen knew for certain that the stakes had risen still further and that unless she could work out who was behind this orgy of violence, more blood would be spilled.
Chapter 61
‘I’m telling you the truth.’
Darren Moorfield spat the words out, angry and aggrieved. But Hudson wasn’t fooled for a second, tightening his grip still further. Having traced Lee Moffat’s best friend to a squalid dwelling in Freemantle, he was determined to get what he wanted.
‘You don’t know the meaning of the word. I know you were involved, I know you did it, so start talking …’
‘Get off me, man. I’ve got nothing to say to you …’
Moorfield tried to wrench himself free, but Hudson was expecting this move. Using the young man’s own momentum against him, he swung him around, disorienting him still further, before marching him backwards across the room. Moorfield’s crummy attic flat was littered with discarded pizza boxes and empty beer cans and he cursed viciously as he stumbled backwards, out of control and off balance.
‘You can’t do this, you stupid fuck …’
‘I don’t see anyone who’s going to stop me,’ Hudson replied coolly.
It was true, they were quite alone in the dilapidated flat, perhaps even the building. Whatever money Moffat made from his rackets clearly didn’t go to his foot soldiers. Despite being Lee’s best mate, Moorfield lived alone in a crumbling block of flats in a scruffy part of town. There would be few witnesses to stop Hudson, certainly none who would want to engage with the police.
‘This is harassment, assault …’
‘By the time I’m finished, you’ll wish that’s all it was …’
They were moving fast. Directly in front of them was a dirty window that looked down onto the cobbles three floors below. Darren Moorfield was protesting, cursing, but Joseph didn’t stop, ramming the skinny young man against the glass. It cracked instantly, but even so Hudson increased the pressure, the glass threatening to break.
‘Jesus Christ, are you mad?’ Moorfield shrieked.
‘No, mate. I’ve never been able to see things more clearly. Which is why you’re not going to wriggle off the hook …’
‘But I’ve told you I never touched Martin Hill. I was at the bookies that day.’
‘I don’t believe you.’
‘Honest to God—’
‘I think you embarrassed yourself, embarrassed Lee, that night at the Marquee. Trying to play the tough guy, picking on Lilah Hill. And what did you get for your pains? A night in the cells. Did Lee have to bail you out?’
Moorfield shrugged, avoiding eye contact, confirming Hudson’s suspicion.
‘I bet he loved that,’ Hudson laughed. ‘Having to rescue your sorry arse from jail.’
‘So what?’
‘You must have been humiliated, Darren, embarrassed, ashamed. I bet you were desperate to prove yourself to Lee after that, prove that you could be more than just a foot soldier, that you could be his main man.’
‘Sure, but—’
‘I also know that you wouldn’t do anything without his say so. You don’t have the imagination. Were the phone calls and the graffiti his idea?’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘Did he give you the knife? Challenge you to put things right?’
‘Please, I don’t know anything …’ Moorfield moaned, struggling to wriggle from Hudson’s grip.
‘Don’t lie to me, Darren.’
‘I’m not, I swear—’
‘I know what you are. You’re a liar, a thief and a killer. And I intend to prove it.’
‘Please, no, I—’
Moorfield was lost for words, fear strangling his senses, the glass continuing to creak behind him.
‘Look, I’ll … I’ll cough to nicking the cars—’
‘Not good enough. I want a full confession. I want you to give me Lee.’
‘But I didn’t do it. He never asked me to.’
To his surprise, Hudson now saw tears in Moorfield’s eyes.
‘On my life, I never did it. I haven’t killed anyone – I couldn’t. I’m a thief, that’s all.’
Moorfield was crying properly now, tears sliding down his cheeks. He seemed resigned, defeated, as if he knew Hudson would eventually push him through the glass down onto the cobbles below. Hudson was seriously tempted to oblige, wanted to see the look of horror and fear on his face as he fell, but against all his better instincts, he now hauled the young man away from the window, throwing him down roughly on the floor.
‘This isn’t over.’
Hudson arrowed the words at him, angry, determined, but in truth he knew it was. If Moffat had ordered Hill’s d
eath, then the pathetic Moorfield clearly knew nothing about it. He was a worm, nothing more, nothing less. Even now he was staring up at him, rubbing his neck, looking aggrieved and scared. But Hudson didn’t linger, he’d wasted enough time here already.
Marching out of the flat into the dingy stairwell beyond, Hudson considered his next move. He could pull Moffat in again, but it might make better sense to seek out his other lieutenants, see if they were willing to sacrifice their leader to avoid a prison sentence. It would be time-consuming and potentially fruitless, as there was always the possibility he and Reid were barking up the wrong tree with this line of enquiry, but they had to try. Retrieving his phone, Hudson was about to call Edwards when suddenly the device came alive in his hands. Taking in the caller ID, Hudson took a moment to compose himself before answering Grace Simmons’s call.
‘Morning, ma’am. What can I do for you?’
‘I’d like a word with you, in my office.’
‘Of course, but I’m out following up some—’
‘Now, please, DS Hudson.’
Then the line went dead.
Chapter 62
‘I’ve absolutely no idea what you’re referring to, ma’am.’
Joseph Hudson was working hard, trying his best to appear aggrieved and mystified, but DCI Simmons wasn’t buying it.
‘That’s strange because DI Grace was very clear in her testimony—’
Hudson didn’t like her use of the word “testimony”, as if this was already an official investigation.
‘—and she said you explicitly threatened her with exposure if she initiated disciplinary proceedings against you.’
‘Exposure of what?’
‘Your past relationship. Or are you denying that that took place?’
‘No, no. We were involved for a while. But it was brief, casual, it didn’t mean anything …’
‘So why are you intent on undermining her?’
‘I’m not and to be honest, ma’am, I resent the accusation. I’m trying to help her, but we’re overrun at the moment, can’t seem to catch a break in any of our cases—’
‘So her reports that you’re prioritizing your own investigative enquiries to the detriment of the rest of the team are untrue, are they?’
‘Categorically. I’m just trying to bring someone to book for something.’
‘And you deny questioning her authority in front of the team? Going against all established protocols—’
‘We have robust exchanges. That’s normal. It’s one of the strengths of the team—’
‘That’s strange, because from where I’m sitting the team looks weak and divided.’
‘Well,’ Hudson shrugged, ‘you’d have to talk to DI Grace about that.’
‘Actually, I’d rather talk to you, as I strongly suspect you are the root cause of all the disharmony and unrest.’
‘That’s totally untrue. If you should be hauling anyone over the coals, it’s Grace. The problems we’re facing are due to her, not me.’
‘Look, DS Hudson, we could go around in circles on this, with you denying every accusation put to you, so perhaps we should just cut to the chase?’
Hudson said nothing, uneasy about where this was heading.
‘DI Grace has told me about your past liaison and I’m obliged to pass this knowledge on to the powers that be. To that end, I’ve drafted my report and will pass it to HR ASAP. I should tell you that I’ve accepted DI Grace’s apology and explanation regarding the relationship and am recommending that no further action be taken. As you know, such relationships are frowned upon, rather than forbidden, and given DI Grace’s many years of loyal service to this station, I see no reason to make a scapegoat of her.’
Hudson stared at her, stunned.
‘I shall add as a postscript that you deny that the relationship has interfered with your relationship and that you have no personal animus against DI Grace as a result. Do you have anything to add to that?’
She had him trapped and she knew it. If he rowed back on his denials, he would open himself up to charges of insubordination. But if he said nothing, he would effectively be clearing Helen of any wrongdoing. It made him seethe, but for now he had no choice but to hold his tongue.
‘I shall be even-handed in my official handling of this incident,’ Simmons continued, ‘but I want to make it abundantly plain to you that I hold you responsible for the problems the team has experienced during the last six months.’
‘With the greatest of respect, ma’am—’
But his angry protest was cut off, Simmons raising her hand to stop him.
‘With that in mind, I have two further things to say. First, that I want it to stop now. The insubordination, the attitude, the cultivation of division, the sniping, the rumour spreading, the leaking of sensitive information to the press.’
‘That’s got nothing to do with me.’
‘Second, that if you do this, if you can toe the line until we’ve cleared this backlog of cases, then you have my word that I will give you a good send-off.’
‘I’m sorry?’ Hudson spluttered the words, outraged.
‘DI Helen Grace is the finest officer, the finest leader, the MIT has ever had and I have no intention of throwing her under a bus to salve your ego. No, the person who is finished here is you.’
Hudson stared at her, unable to muster a single word in response to this vicious and unexpected ambush.
‘If you do as I ask, however, I will ensure you get a glowing reference to facilitate your transfer back to Cheshire Police. Understood?’
‘Yes, but—’
‘Then we’re done here. Thank you for your time, DS Hudson.’
Chapter 63
She sped along the street, pedalling hard, her mood rising all the while. At home, Lilah had felt trapped, as if the walls, her life, was closing in on her. So, in the end, she’d fled, throwing on some clothes and hurrying out to her bike, suddenly desperate to be away from her responsibilities, her troubles, from the difficult conversations she was due to have. She needed to be by herself for a while, in the open air, she needed to breathe.
The contrast in temperature was a shock. The house was shadowy, cool and dark, but outside, the heat radiated up off the pavement, the atmosphere sultry and oppressive. She was sweating before she’d managed to unchain her bike, but, nevertheless, it felt good to be out. The silence in the house had become oppressive, a silence filled only by her own dark thoughts, and it was better to be amongst the familiar sights and sounds of her neighbourhood than stuck in a home that had recently become a prison.
She picked up pace, her heart thumping as she powered down the street. With her helmet on and her face hidden behind sunglasses, she was unrecognizable, able to pass neighbours and local shopkeepers unmolested. This mild subterfuge made her smile, a small victory of sorts, and soon she was several streets away, straying from her usual haunts, happily anonymous.
The traffic was light and soon Lilah found herself outside the Westquay shopping centre. Securing her bike, she pushed into the crisp, air-conditioned interior, shivering as the sweat cooled and clung to her, before losing herself in the delights within. She hadn’t been to the centre in ages and it appeared to her now as some kind of Aladdin’s cave, so colourful, so opulent, so happy. It was a place designed to entertain – a place to shop, chat, eat, drink and laugh – an emporium of pleasure. Something she’d had little of lately.
Skittish, giggling, Lilah threw herself into its many diversions, gorging herself on a cupcake and gingerbread latte, before buying a dress she would never have the confidence to wear, which in turn necessitated a visit to Victoria’s Secret. She felt giddy, drunk with amusement, but she went with it, gliding around the different levels of the shopping centre in a daze. For the first time in ages, she felt content. More than that, she felt alive.
Descending the escalator to the ground level, she made her way towards Schuh. The icing on the cake would be some glamorous and impractical summer shoes t
hat she could totter around in as she embraced her new life, her new future. She had no idea when she’d wear them or who she’d wear them for, but she was suddenly gripped by the idea of having them. She had spotted a cute pair of pink platform wedges on her way in and was suddenly convinced they had her name on them.
She strode forward, confident, energized … then suddenly ground to a halt, the wind punched from her sails. For a moment, she was unable to move, unable to take in what she was seeing. This was her time, her moment of euphoria and release, and they had no place here. Yet here they were, a quiet, unassuming middle-aged couple shuffling slowly towards her, utterly oblivious to her presence, lost in their own private world of pain. Just the sight of them was a piercing stab to Lilah’s heart and she swiftly turned away, pretending to examine something in the shop window.
In the reflection she watched the sad couple pass by, hollow ghosts clutching empty shopping bags, whilst remaining stock-still herself. The pair moved on, gone as swiftly as they’d appeared, but their presence remained with Lilah and, staring at the shiny glass, Lilah saw her own haunted face staring back at her. All joy, all giddiness had now evaporated. Now she felt hollow, cold and numb, a shadow of the woman she had been not five minutes earlier. Then again, it was all she deserved.
Chapter 64
She knocked on the door a second time, then stepped back to look up at the house. But it was dark and lifeless – there was no one at home.
Disappointed, Helen retraced her steps, hurrying back down to street level. She’d tried several times to respond to Robert Downing’s urgent summons, but his phone appeared to be permanently switched off, hence her sudden, impulsive decision to visit him at home.
His office had said that he would be here, as this was one of his afternoons with the boys, yet there was no sign of the tight, family unit. Returning to her bike, Helen pulled out her phone, intent on leaving yet another message for him, but as she did so, a noise made her look up. A dark-blue Mercedes S Class had just pulled up by the curb and behind the wheel was the man himself.
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