The Solomon Gray Series Box Set

by Keith Nixon

  “Jake will be helping with our investigation. Think of it as shaking the tree and watching what falls out.”

  “Out of a job if you’re not careful, Von.”

  “People died, Sol. It’s important they have justice.”

  “This is wrong.”

  “No, you’re wrong!”

  “We’ll see about that.”

  Hamson turned and left the flat. Gray knew he should go after her; reassure her that he was on her side. But he couldn’t bring himself to. He wasn’t certain of much right now. All he knew for sure was that his stomach was churning, and he felt sick yet again.

  Forty Seven

  When Gray got into the station the following morning, he headed for the canteen and grabbed a coffee. Yet again he couldn’t stomach any food. He’d had to notch his belt tighter today. His clothes were beginning to hang off him. Standing waiting to pay, he felt a nudge in his back.

  “At last,” said Fowler. “Glad you’ve made it in.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “Yvonne brought Jake Armitage in last night. She’s questioning him now. The station is abuzz, haven’t you noticed?”

  Gray hadn’t. Though – now Fowler mentioned it – there was an urgency and excitement in the canteen. Lots of smiles and laughter. He’d been too focused upon himself. “For what?”

  “The Sunset fire.”

  She’d done it then. “We should be focusing on trying to find Khoury, not this.”

  “No argument from me, Sol.”

  “How did Carslake react?”

  Fowler shrugged. “I haven’t seen him yet. Here’s Yvonne, though.”

  Hamson entered and made her way directly over to Gray. “A word,” she said. Fowler raised an eyebrow at Gray as Hamson spun away. Gray could read Hamson’s emotion like a book printed in an oversized font. Defiance was written all over her face.

  “I hear Jake’s in custody,” said Gray.

  “I had him brought in last night. We’ve just taken a break.”

  “Are you getting anywhere?”

  “No, he won’t answer any questions. He wants to speak with you.”

  “Why?”

  “He won’t say.”

  A fact which was clearly niggling Hamson. Gray asked, “What room’s he in?”

  Hamson didn’t answer immediately, just stared at Gray. “You’re too close to all of this, Jake. The case. You two are like best buddies.”

  “Yeah, you said last night.”

  “Carslake told me. All about Millstone, the investigation. Why didn’t you?”

  “Honestly? I was about to until you went off on one again. And Carslake ordered me not to.”

  “I’m your commanding officer. Don’t you trust me?”

  “Of course, but Carslake’s both our commanding officers. What he says goes. That’s the chain, Von.”

  Hamson leant forward, got right into Gray’s line of sight. “I know what you’re up to.”

  “What are you talking about?” Gray was genuinely perplexed. He’d never seen Hamson like this.

  “With Carslake. Trying to get shot of me. All for a promotion. I thought you of all people were beyond stepping on others to move up.”

  “I’m not interested in your job.”

  “That’s not what I hear.”

  “From who?”

  “The who doesn’t matter, it’s the why.”

  “How many years have we worked together?”

  “Almost four.”

  “And in that time when have I ever done anything to undermine you?”

  “Times and people change.”

  “Someone’s lying to you.”

  Hamson nodded. “You’re absolutely right, Sergeant Gray. The culprit is looking right at me.”

  “Von, this is ridiculous. Listen to yourself. You’re paranoid.” As soon as he said it, Gray groaned inside. He’d gone too far.

  Hamson stood up and leaned over him. “From now on, it’s Guv, Boss, or Ma’am. No more friendly first-name stuff. Get it?”

  Gray nodded. “In spades.”

  “About time you did. He’s in three.” Hamson walked out, leaving the wreckage of a friendship in her wake.

  Forty Eight

  Jake wasn’t alone. The lawyer, Neil Wright, sat beside him.

  “I’ll leave you two on your own,” said Wright, offering his chair to Gray. “Remember my advice, Jake.”

  “You don’t look happy, Sol,” said Jake as Wright closed the door. Jake was dishevelled, untidy, his hair a mess. As if he’d been up most of the night. “Is our history causing you some trouble with Inspector Hamson?”

  “You wanted to speak to me.”

  “Yes, I thought I owed it to you.”

  “You don’t owe me anything.”

  “For old time’s sake.”

  “That’s irrelevant now.”

  “When the interview restarts I’ll be confessing to the Sunset fire. I ordered the place burned down. The deaths of that family are on me.”

  “Why now?”

  “Regan’s passing has made me think a great deal.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  Jake leaned forward. “And that’s why I wanted to talk before Hamson gets her claws in. This is necessary. There are bigger things going on here than just me.”

  “Like what?”

  “I’m asking you to drop your investigation into Regan’s death.”

  “Why that the sudden change of heart?”

  “Because we used to be friends.”

  “What’s McGavin’s connection to all of this? He must be involved somehow if Wright is representing you.”

  “It doesn’t matter. Everything’s in motion now. You can’t stop it, Sol. That’s what I’m telling you. Let events take their course.”

  “No.”

  “Family’s important. I’ve never really been there for my kids, particularly not for Cameron. I spent all my time looking out for Regan. Well now it’s time to fix that. I’m going to be a grandfather. This is my chance to make it all right. I’ve signed my business over to Cameron, so he can provide for the child and Rachel.”

  “Rachel O’Shea?”

  “They’ve been an item for a while. I’m pleading with you to give Cameron a chance. I’m taking the fall for everything.” Jake held out a hand for Gray to shake. “Please, Sol. One last deal for me.”

  Gray suddenly felt hot. “I’ll tell your lawyer to come back in.”

  Jake let his hand fall, and Gray left. He went into the toilets and washed his face with cold water. It barely helped. He threw up into the sink, retching until there was no more in his stomach.

  He looked at himself in the mirror. Pale, haggard, bloodshot eyes.

  “You look like shit, Sol.” It was Fowler, standing in the doorway.

  “Upset stomach.”

  “That’s not what me and Von reckon. It’s not the first time you’ve been sick, is it?”

  “I’m all right.”

  “You’re not, Sol. I’ve known you for years. You’re a stubborn bastard. I’m telling you, get to a doctor.”

  Gray knew Fowler was right. “I will. Soon.”

  “Good. Meanwhile, we’ve got a body. You’ll want to see who it is.”

  Forty Nine

  “I can think of worse places to die,” said Fowler.

  “There are plenty better, though,” replied Gray. He was standing above Khoury’s corpse, his eyes wide open, mouth clamped shut, as if he’d been straining at the moment something in his body snapped. Khoury was facing the sea, slumped at the rear of the old casino on the Ramsgate main bay. Once a grand building with plenty of money flowing through the doors, it now stood abandoned. Another relic of times past.

  The immediate area was popular with winos and derelicts, indicated by the sand strewn with rubbish: bottles, cans, cigarette ends, and the odd syringe. The beach area had been cordoned off down to the water, as far as the harbour wall one way, and a couple of hundred yards to the other, tow
ards the mothballed beach fairground. Uniform were combing the area picking up every item and putting it into a bag in case it proved to be evidence.

  Graffiti was daubed on the wall, and the air reeked of urine and stale alcohol. There were, however, none of the local colourful characters in sight.

  Gray squatted down for a closer look at Khoury’s left arm. It was bound by a tourniquet, and a needle was shoved in one vein, the plunger fully depressed. By Khoury’s right hand was the remaining drug paraphernalia – lighter, foil, and wrap of narcotics.

  “Overdose,” said Fowler unnecessarily.

  “Convenient.”

  “Who cares?”

  I do, thought Gray but kept his opinion to himself. His phone buzzed, and he pulled it out; it was a text from the solicitor, Stratham. Gray read it and realised loose ends were being tied up. For him too.

  He rang the Lighthouse. Kelvin answered.

  “Is Rachel there?” asked Gray.

  “Sure, I’ll get her.”

  “Hello?” said Rachel.

  “It’s DS Gray, can we talk?”

  “I was hoping you’d ask.”

  ***

  “What is it supposed to mean?” whispered Rachel.

  “I haven’t a clue,” Gray replied.

  The Turner Contemporary was a modern art gallery a few hundred yards down the hill from the station and a short drive from the Lighthouse. The exhibit in question was a lacquered branch lying on a mattress. The artist was local-girl-done-good, Tracey Emin.

  But they weren’t here for the art. Gray led Rachel into a darkened room with several rows of benches. There was a film on a loop playing against one wall. At this time of day, the gallery was almost empty. At the front was a couple, wearing headphones to hear the commentary, but there was nobody else in earshot.

  Gray and Rachel sat as far away from the pair as possible and kept their voices low.

  “Thanks for agreeing to meet me here,” Rachel said.

  “No trouble.”

  “Did you find any record of Noble meeting with Carslake?”

  “No,” admitted Gray. “You should know that Adnan Khoury, has been found dead.”

  Rachel put a hand to her mouth. “How?”

  “We’re yet to confirm for sure but it seems he took an overdose.”

  “Oh my God, that’s awful. Poor man.”

  “I’m struggling to understand your relationship with your mother.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “After what happened, what she did, you somehow seem to be close. It must have been hard.”

  Rachel paused for a moment. The film had ended, and the couple moved outside, leaving Gray and Rachel alone. She appeared to sag. “I hate her for what she did, but she’s the only family I have left. I’m trying to make it work. Of course it’s not easy. She’s not easy.”

  “In what way?”

  “It’s difficult to explain. I guess I’m never sure if she’s telling the truth or spinning me a line. The thing is, Sergeant Gray, I’ve been alone for a long time. At first, once I’d got over the anger, I was just over the moon at having my mother back. She couldn’t replace Dad or Jonathan, but it had to be better than nobody, right?”

  “Yes.” Gray understood exactly what Rachel meant. “What about Cameron? Jake told me earlier he’s the father.”

  Rachel rubbed her belly again. She smiled. “We met when we were kids.”

  “I know; I saw a photo of you two, outside the Sunset that night.”

  “It was stupid really, trying to reclaim a lost love. How could it work after everything we’ve both been through?”

  “So you’re not together now?”

  “No. We tried, and this little miracle I’m carrying is because of those efforts, but we split up after a couple of months. There’s too much baggage between us, too much time. If the fire hadn’t happened, who knows?”

  “What was Cameron and Regan’s relationship like?”

  “Regan wanted to be Cam’s big brother, but Cam couldn’t even stand being in the same room as him. He loathed Regan.”

  “Why?”

  “He’s never said, but I think it was to do with me. It was something else that came between us. His constant anger about the past.”

  “Talking about the past, when we spoke the other day you said your mother used to wear wigs?”

  “Yes.”

  “What about now?”

  “No, she sticks with the same old hair colour now. Although, I did see one in her flat recently. I was surprised to be honest.”

  “What colour was it?”

  “Blue.”

  Gray grabbed Rachel’s arm. “Was Natalie at the Lighthouse when you left?”

  “Yes, why? What’s the matter?”

  But Gray didn’t answer. Walking quickly, he left Rachel in the projection room and pulled out his mobile.

  “Where did you get to?” asked Fowler, sounding annoyed. “You just cleared off.”

  “Not now, Mike! I need you to get over to the Lighthouse and bring Natalie Peace in for questioning. Now.”

  “On what charge?”

  “The murder of Regan Armitage.”

  Fifty

  Cameron Armitage was at the mobile home site, in the bar, wiping down the tables. He didn’t acknowledge Gray’s entrance.

  “I guess you won’t be doing this for much longer,” said Gray. “Now you’ve sold EAP to Millstone. How much were you offered?”

  Cameron didn’t pause in his task. “That’s private business.”

  “Was this the plan all along? Get your father out of the way, then sell his assets? As the sole director of the business now, you have the right to do so. Your father incapacitated and Regan dead.”

  “EAP had financial difficulties already and Jake being charged has panicked our suppliers and partners. I decided it was worth taking the cash now, while we still can.”

  “This is just a sideshow though, isn’t it, Cameron? The money’s simply a bonus. Really, this is about payback.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Sergeant.”

  “You hated Regan because he took something from you – Rachel. The fire he set at the Sunset all those years ago drove you two apart. You tried to get back together again, but it didn’t work. Because of Regan. So you wanted revenge. And you had the perfect partners to help pull it off: McGavin wanted EAP, and Natalie wanted Jake to suffer. Your father was caught in a pincer movement between you two.

  “Regan was a player. I bet he thought the idea of sleeping with your ex-girlfriend’s mother would grate on you. But what he didn’t realise, was that he was the one being played. Some ketamine went into his drink, and he was bundled out of the club, insensible. Then he was loaded into a vehicle and taken to Ramsgate harbour, put aboard Larry Lost’s boat, and dumped at sea, making it look like he was running migrants on the side and drowned in the process. How am I doing?”

  “Very inventive. Where’s your proof?”

  “We’ve plenty of circumstantial evidence already, and Natalie’s in custody and talking.” Gray didn’t know if this were true, but neither would Cameron. He didn’t respond, though. “You’re in deep shit, Cameron. Killing your brother, framing your father.”

  “This is bullshit.”

  Gray read Cameron his rights.

  Fifty One

  McGavin’s restaurant was full, but the man himself was nowhere in sight. A waiter pointed Gray towards the kitchen where McGavin was looking over the menu for the day.

  “Ah, Sergeant Gray, come to take me up on my offer?”

  “Just the opposite, McGavin. Your offer is refused.”

  “I’m confused. What are you wittering on about?”

  “I got a text earlier, from a friendly solicitor. Cameron was selling EAP over to Millstone in its entirety. For an excellent price. For you. We’re talking past tense though now. I thought you should hear from me first that Cameron has been arrested. The deal’s off.”

  “I’v
e already told you, Millstone is nothing to do with me.”

  “Everything is down to you. Your fingermarks are all over it. I know you had Noble murdered.”

  “Perhaps you should give up your job and write a book. Fiction, of course, because that’s what this is.”

  “Not before I’ve put you away.”

  “You have nothing. Otherwise you’d have the cuffs on already.” McGavin forced another smile.

  “One day, McGavin. One day soon.”

  “I look forward to it, Sergeant. Now, get out of my restaurant.”

  Fifty Two

  The room was a rectangle. On one side was an examination table, and in the opposite corner Doctor Kahn’s desk faced the wall.

  Gray settled into one of two seats next to the desk. Kahn – a thirty-something Asian woman already turning grey, with small, serious features– twisted in her seat to face him. The surgery was one of those where you could end up seeing any of the GPs. Gone were the days of being allocated a single physician who you saw forever more.

  Kahn started with the standard question. “What prompted you to come see me?”

  “I’ve been sick several times. Most recently there was blood.”

  Kahn made a note on her pad. “Any other symptoms?”

  “I’ve been finding it hard to swallow when eating. Also heartburn.”

  “How long for now?”

  “Three, maybe four weeks.”

  “Is there anything which makes your symptoms better or worse?”

  Gray considered that. “I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about it. Milk helps ease the heartburn, but otherwise I assumed it was bad food or irritable bowel syndrome.”

  “Do you smoke?”

  “Some, I’ve been cutting back.”

  “Drink alcohol?”

  “Same answer.”

  “How recently have you been reducing your intake?”

  “A few months now, which is why I thought this was linked to a lifestyle change.”

  “Okay, I’d like to take some blood, then examine you.”

  “I hate needles,” said Gray.

  “It’s necessary, I’m afraid.”

  Reluctantly, Gray agreed.

  “Would you prefer to lie down?” asked Kahn.