by Keith Nixon
Forty Two
Hamson was nursing a coffee at a table in the corner of the staff canteen where it was slightly less noisy. A cup of coffee and a bacon roll awaited Gray at the adjacent space. He sat and put Natalie’s folder between them. He reached out for the roll and took a bite.
“Did you believe any of that bullshit from those two?” asked Gray, the food sticking in his throat. “How could Rachel possibly forgive Natalie so easily? She walks out, leaves her kids, the whole family dies, and suddenly it’s okay?”
“Natalie is the only relative Rachel has left, and she’s pregnant. Wouldn’t you want your mother at a time like that?”
“And Natalie isn’t even her real name. What else has she been lying about? I’m going to have another talk with Rachel on her own. She mentioned Felicity or Natalie, or whatever her name, was wearing wigs.”
“Frankly Sol, I’m more focused on our boss, your friend, possibly being involved in covering up — or even committing — a crime.” Hamson reached over for the folder, opened it, and flipped through the articles.
“That’s probably a lie too.”
“What do you remember about the Sunset fire?”
“Not much, I wasn’t in the best of places at the time. Jake vigorously denied the accusations. He went so far as to take out an injunction against both The Echo and The Herald. The Echo, where Noble was the editor, went into administration as a result. It didn’t do Noble’s career much good. He never forgot it. Everything was different. Carslake was a sergeant, McGavin was just a bit-part player in those days. The big dog was Duncan Usher, he ran everything.”
“Where’s Usher now? Died in a fire by any chance?”
“He’s in prison for murder.”
Hamson closed the folder and looked at Gray. “When you met Noble he said nothing about all of this?”
“No, it was all focused on Millstone.”
“You’re sure?”
“Bloody hell, Von, yes. I’m sure.” Gray held back mentioning Noble’s story. Hamson would be all over it, focusing on Carslake instead of the case at hand.
“Obviously we need to check into Natalie’s claim that Noble brought this in, and we ignored it.”
“Agreed.”
“Who else would have been here at the time?”
“Fowler. He was a DC back then.”
“Mike can’t have been involved.” Hamson dismissed the possibility with a wave of her hand. “Carslake, though …”
“I was there Von, I heard it too. I can’t get my head around everything.”
“I knew something wasn’t right with him.”
“Von, I’ve got to say I think you’re seeing something which isn’t here. You and Carslake have never got on. You can’t be judge, jury, and executioner here. It’s one woman’s word against a career copper. A woman, I add, who we know for sure lies.”
“There’s something Sol, I’m sure of it. We need to talk to Carslake.”
“I doubt Carslake will take kindly to hearing this from me, never mind you.”
“We can’t leave this.”
“I’m due to go out with him tonight. Mike will be with us too.”
Hamson blinked. “Mike’s going?”
“Didn’t he tell you?”
“No.”
“He mentioned going out for a beer some time so I took him up on the offer.”
Hamson stood up. “We’re not married. He can do what he wants. And you have to go, Sol.” She leaned over Gray. “Talk to Carslake.”
Gray suddenly felt his stomach churn again and a burn in his throat. “Sure, whatever.” He walked quickly to the toilets, leaving a puzzled Hamson behind. Inside a stall he threw up, the coffee and roll he’d just consumed splashing against the bowl. He retched twice more. He felt drained, literally.
At the sinks, Gray swilled water around his mouth and spat. He washed his face. He saw his reflection in the mirror. His face looked thin. All this bloody treachery was taking its toll.
Forty Three
Gray glanced around the office. Nobody was paying him the slightest attention. He called up the HOLMES2 database, typed in “Sunset, fire”. He clicked through the reports and interviews. Carslake had been involved in many of them. A coroner’s investigation recorded accidental death.
Mr Renishaw, it seemed, liked to tinker with motorbikes. The belief was he’d left flammable materials lying around in the garden and kitchen which had caught fire when someone threw a cigarette stub over the fence.
The data Gray reviewed appeared perfectly reasonable. Evidence and conclusion neatly followed each other. Gray sat back, starting to feel perhaps Hamson’s suspicions were correct, though there was only Natalie’s word that Noble had been in. A hand slapped him on the shoulder.
“Bloody hell, Sol, you look like you’ve seen a ghost!” said Fowler.
“You startled me, Mike.”
“Just wanted to check we were still on for tonight.”
“Nothing’s changed.”
“Good, see you later.”
Gray made sure Fowler was at his desk before he accessed the shared folder where all the information on the Regan Armitage case was stored. He quickly found Fowler’s CCTV footage. There was one marked “Seagram’s” and dated the night Regan had gone missing.
He slowly worked his way through the footage, reviewing the external scenes first, then the internal ones. Fowler had been right: other than the time when the couple departed there was no clear image of the woman in the blue wig. When she appeared in the footage she kept her face away from the camera, like she knew it was watching.
Finally, Gray carried out a database search of reported assaults in connection with Seagram’s or Regan. There was nothing, not a single piece of documented evidence. So either Quigley was lying or Regan was simply a player.
Forty Four
Then
The interview room smelt of cigarette smoke. From a previous occupant, not William Noble. He held a plastic cup of something lukewarm from the vending machine. From the doorway Carslake watched Noble swirl the liquid around.
Carslake wanted to leave the door open, to draw some fresher air in from the corridor, but he couldn’t. He didn’t want stray ears overhearing this conversation. The catch clicked shut. Noble half rose from his seat. Carslake waved him back down.
“Good to see you, Sergeant,” said Noble.
Carslake merely grunted in reply. Having the editor of the local newspaper turn up on your doorstep was never a positive sign. He had a nose for things, did Noble.
“You asked to see me,” said Carslake. He remained standing, making it clear that the discussion would be brief.
“I know you’ve been involved in the investigation into the Sunset fire, the guest house, right?”
“What of it?”
“I think it was deliberate.”
“Arson, you mean?”
“Yes.”
“That’s not what the official report says,” replied Carslake.
“I believe differently.”
“I didn’t know you were an expert on fires and their cause.”
“I’m not.”
“Then why are we having this conversation? Conclusions were drawn, the investigation is closed.”
“It’s Jake Armitage. He profited from the fire.”
Carslake let gravity take hold, and he sat down. This needed handling. “It’s well known Mister Armitage owned the building. It’s also well known the land has since been developed.”
“Yes, but did you know that until the fire, the Renishaws were refusing to sell to him? The whole redevelopment hinged on the guest house. If it fell through, everything did.”
“So?”
“So the deal was twenty-four hours away from collapsing. Don’t you think it’s remarkable the Sunset then burns down, salvaging the whole thing?”
“The only aspect which sounds remarkable is your claim, Will. What proof do you have?”
“I’ve spoken to the owner’s d
aughter. She told me all about the offer from Jake. Threats and harassment too, apparently, after it was rejected.”
“Again, do you have any proof?”
“Isn’t the daughter’s word enough?”
“No. Do you have anything else?”
“Not yet. I thought you’d be interested. Isn’t this what the police are supposed to do? Investigate?”
Carslake got to his feet and leaned on the table, knuckles on the scratched formica, towering over Noble. “I don’t hear anything worthy of my time, frankly. Now, if you have something solid, I’ll happily investigate. Until then I’d suggest you stop spreading malicious rumours about Mr Armitage, otherwise you and I could be having a very different conversation.”
Noble blinked at Carslake. His mouth flapped open a couple of times but no words came out. Carslake opened the door and stood by it for a few moments until Noble got up and wandered out.
“This isn’t the last you’ll hear of this,” said Noble as he passed by.
Carslake grabbed Noble’s upper arm and squeezed. “You want to be arrested for wasting police time, Will? Be my guest.”
Noble shook Carslake off and left.
Outside, Carslake took out his mobile phone, called Jake, and told him what had happened.
“Is it true?” asked Carslake.
“That’s not your concern, Jeff. Your job is to keep people like Noble at bay. I’ll keep a closer eye on him from now on.”
Jake rang off, leaving Carslake in the dark.
Forty Five
Now
At the halfway stage of the quiz, during a break to allow the participants to stock up on beer, Gray raised the matter. It was noisy, the chatter of a full pub talking about the questions so far. Nobody would overhear. Gray’s team was lying in fourth place, just a handful of points off the lead.
When Fowler returned with three pints Gray said, “Do either of you remember the fire which burned down the Sunset guest house?”
Fowler chugged his lager then nodded. “Sure. I wasn’t on duty that night, but I remember.”
“Why?” asked Carslake.
“There’s been an accusation that Jake was involved in burning down Noble’s office.”
“Based on what?”
“A claim that Noble made a connection between Jake and the Sunset fire ten years ago, and it got swept under the carpet. We were all working here at the time, but I was on leave.”
“What are you suggesting?” asked Fowler.
“Nothing, I just wanted to know if either of you knew of Noble making these claims?”
“Means nothing to me,” said Fowler.
“Apparently it’s related to Millstone Developments.”
Carslake gave Gray a tiny shake of the head which Fowler didn’t see.
“Who?” asked Fowler.
“They’re property developers.”
Carslake frowned. However, the quiz master chose that moment to pick up the microphone. His voice boomed through the loudspeakers. “All right, ladies and gentlemen, are you ready for the rest of the questions?” There was a resounding “yes!” from the tables, except Gray’s. “Then let’s get going! Question twenty-six …”
***
Forty minutes later and Fowler was totting up their results. “Bloody hell, what happened to us in the second half? We got hardly any right!”
“My fault,” said Gray. “I couldn’t think straight.”
“We’ll do better next time,” said Carslake.
“Want another?” Fowler raised his empty glass.
“I’m done,” said Gray.
“Me too,” said Carslake.
“Looks like I’m on my own, then. See you tomorrow.” Fowler went to the bar.
Gray followed Carslake out to his car. Carslake unlocked, got inside. Gray got in the passenger side.
“Why on earth did you bring up Noble and Millstone?” asked Carslake.
“Hamson and I spoke to Natalie Peace and Rachel O’Shea. Turns out they’re mother and daughter. Millstone is trying to buy the property their charity is located in. Noble was investigating Millstone. They’re convinced Noble was murdered to silence him. They’re also convinced Jake had a hand in the Sunset fire which killed their family. That’s why I brought it up.”
“Their family?”
“Natalie’s ex-husband and son died. Rachel was there at the time but happened to be outside when the fire started.”
“Horrible business.”
“You do remember it then?”
“Yes. Unfortunately. The sort of thing you’d like to forget.”
Gray waited for more; he didn’t get it. “You were there during the fire?”
“I was on duty, it was near the station. It shouldn’t come as a surprise.”
“Why did you stop me asking about Noble?”
“Do you trust me?”
Gray hesitated before he answered. “Of course I do.”
“Good.” If Carslake had noticed Gray’s hesitation, he made nothing of it. “This has to stay between us, okay?”
“Promise. Cross my heart.”
“First, I don’t know anything about Noble coming into the station about Jake. I seriously doubt he ever did. Noble was always seeing a story where there wasn’t one. Plus, later on, he had a vendetta against Jake. The Sunset fire brought down Noble’s newspaper, and he always tried to return the favour.”
“I know.”
“Second, Millstone is a sensitive subject. We think it’s being used as a vehicle to buy up large swathes of Margate. There’s a high-level investigation underway, very sensitive, very quiet. There may be some issues with local departments like planning. Bungs – stuff like that. Even I don’t know a great deal about it.”
“Jake’s the victim here?”
“They seem to be targeting him specifically, though he is the largest property owner in Thanet.”
“Jake mentioned that he’d been thinking of retiring and that he’d been made an offer on Seagram’s.”
“It’s entirely possible. Who could blame him for moving on? Look, we need to work together on this.”
“How?”
“You’ve gained the women’s trust, right?”
“I wouldn’t go that far.”
“You know them, though. I don’t.”
“Yes.”
“Then you need to keep them off Millstone and Jake for now.”
“I’m not sure I can. They’re pretty driven.”
“You have to. I don’t want them buggering up the investigation.”
“Why?”
“They’re biased. Their charity is under threat from Millstone, and they hold a grudge against Jake. That’s enough, isn’t it?”
“I’ll try.”
“And Hamson; she can’t know about the Millstone investigation either. Too sensitive.”
“I don’t like the sound of that, Jeff.”
“That’s how it has to be.”
Gray thought for a few moments, weighing everything up. He wasn’t sure where Carslake was going with this, but it felt best to be on the inside. “Okay.”
Carslake held out his hand. “It’s great spending time with you again, Sol. I’ve really missed it.”
Gray shook. Carslake grinned. Gray forced himself to do the same.
“See you tomorrow,” said Gray. He got out of the car and began to walk home through Broadstairs, plenty on his mind.
On the way, he sent Hamson a text.
Forty Six
Hamson arrived at Gray’s flat five minutes after he did. He buzzed her in, left the front door ajar, and went to stand on the balcony. He listened to the beat of the waves until Hamson was beside him.
“Want a coffee?” said Gray.
“Got anything stronger?”
“Just beer.”
“Coffee it is then.”
Gray left Hamson on the balcony while he made the drinks. He carried two mugs out, passed one over.
“How did it go?” she asked.
<
br /> “Mike doesn’t know anything, and Carslake had a different perspective on the situation.”
Hamson snorted. “Well, he would. What bullshit did he feed you this time?”
“He didn’t recall Noble coming into the station, and I couldn’t find any record of him doing so either.”
“That doesn’t mean anything. Documents can be amended. Or not filed.”
“Carslake repeated that Noble loathed Jake too. Meaning he was biased against him.”
“Is that it?”
“Carslake also mentioned an investigation into Millstone and said I needed to trust him, that there were larger events going on behind the scenes.”
This time Hamson outright laughed. “Yes, like saving his career. God, the man has you twisted around his little finger!”
Gray had been about to give Hamson all the detail on the Millstone investigation but decided now to keep it to himself. She’d developed her own bias and because of that he felt he couldn’t trust her.
“Are you saying I’m compromised, Sol?” Hamson banged the coffee cup down on the table.
“Yes.”
“That makes two of us, then. You’re too close to Carslake and Jake. You can’t see what’s actually going on around you.” Gray didn’t appreciate the accusation; it went against everything he’d stood for in his police career. He bit down, felt his jaw muscles flex with the effort, counted to ten.
“I see very clearly.”
“Really? How much are you affected by your friendship with Carslake? What about that he’s helping you find Tom?”
“Irrelevant.”
“Is it? Has Carslake organised it so you can see this so-called witness yet?”
“No, but to be fair there hasn’t been a lot of chance.”
“Fair? What’s fair got to do with it? This is your son we’re talking about, and Carslake is dithering. Stop defending the indefensible and wake up, Sol!”
“Where’s the evidence?”
“God, listen to yourself!”
“We’re police, Yvonne; this is one of our own.”
“And what if I tell you I intend bringing in Jake tomorrow morning for the Sunset fire?”
“I’d say we don’t have the evidence to arrest him.”