The Solomon Gray Series Box Set

by Keith Nixon

  Worthington opened up the folder he’d brought in, extracted a piece of paper and slid it across the desk. “For the benefit of the recording, I’m showing Mr Parker the warrant granting us entry to the property on Hengist Avenue. It’s all above board.”

  Lakehurst scanned the document. “I agree.”

  Worthington took the paper back.

  “The officer you struck is okay, by the way,” said Gray, “I’m sure you’ll be concerned about her welfare. She sustained a broken arm.” Parker resumed his nonchalant stance, leaning the chair back, reviewing the ceiling. He didn’t even bother to shrug. “The baton you had was police issue. Where did you get it, Mr Parker?”

  “Found it. Lying around on the pavement. One of your lot must have dropped it. Careless bastards.” Parker grinned.

  “What’s not so funny, is we discovered a quantity of crack cocaine and heroin in your house.”

  Worthington fanned several photos out on the table, showing the drugs beneath the floorboards, then out onto the carpet, arranged to demonstrate how much was present.

  “Not my gaff, not my stuff. Belongs to the woman, right?” Parker snapped his fingers, as if trying and failing to recall her name.

  “Eloise Nunes.”

  “Yeah.”

  “How do you know her?”

  “We shag every now and again.” Parker looked at Gray, gave a broad grin. “She can’t get enough of me. Know what I mean? But she does my head in, dude. Being a junkie an’ all.”

  “That’s touching, Mr Parker.”

  “What can I say? I’m a lover man.”

  “So you deny the drugs belong to you?”

  “That’s what I said. Tell him, Alfie.” Parker turned to Lakehurst. “Tell him I didn’t do nothing.”

  Lakehurst gave Parker an irritated look. Clearly the lawyer wasn’t enamoured with his client, though had to do his job. “Have you any evidence to back up your accusation, Inspector Gray?”

  “Unfortunately for Mr Parker, yes.”

  Worthington lifted the lid of his laptop. The screen kicked into life and a window popped up. Worthington nudged at the integrated mouse pad, clicked the play arrow and a scene began. Parker, his attention grabbed, got close to the screen, eyes narrowed. It was footage of Parker doing a deal, handing over wraps in exchange for cash. It was over quickly, but Parker’s features were clear even beneath the tightly drawn hood.

  Concern leaked across Parker’s face.

  “We’ve had undercover surveillance on you for months, Mr Parker. This isn’t the only recording in our possession. We have you coming and going from Miss Nunes’ property and several others in the area, working with known dealers, all of whom are in cells next door to you, because we raided all of those as well. We’ve been collecting fingerprint evidence, so I fully expect to tie you into a fairly major drug dealing network. What do you have to say to that, Mr Parker?”

  “Perhaps this would be a good time for me and my client to have a few moments together,” said Lakehurst. Parker nodded vigorously in agreement.

  “Be my guest.” Gray stopped the playback. He and Worthington left the room.

  “Parker knows he’s screwed,” said Worthington once they were standing in the corridor. Fowler passed by, escorting another prisoner arrested in the early hours to the adjacent room. He winked at Gray, clearly enjoying himself. Multiple interviews were underway, using up pretty much the station’s entire resource.

  “Agreed,” said Gray. “I’ll be back in a minute, I’m going to get another coffee. I need the kick.” He stifled a yawn. “Parker can wait if he decides to talk again before I’m back. Want one?”

  “I’m good, thanks.”

  When Gray reached the office, Wyatt wasn’t there. He wanted to explain himself regarding his reluctance for her to come over. His half-finished cafetière was where he’d left it, lukewarm now. Nobody cleared anything up round here. Gray poured the drink into his mug, zapped it in the microwave for half a minute before he went back to Worthington.

  “Sorted?” said Worthington. Gray held his mug up.

  The door opened. “We’re ready for you,” said Lakehurst.

  Parker appeared deflated. He sat with his head leaning on his arms on the table. Worthington raised an eyebrow at Gray. Often people started dealing for the money, without realising or accepting the risks. Gray would take a bet that Parker was one of the naive employees drawn in by the promise of easy money with no regard for the potential consequences. Consequences he was about to suffer.

  Recorder restarted, Lakehurst said, “My client would like to make a statement.”

  “Okay,” said Gray. “Go ahead.”

  Parker didn’t immediately speak, as if gathering himself. “Look,” he said eventually, all the fight gone from his tone. “I’ve a baby on the way and a toddler already, that’s why I deal, to pay for the kids and their mums, all right?” The gangster language was dropped too.

  “Which makes selling Class A drugs acceptable?”

  “Well, it’s fair enough, though?”

  “Not really, no, Mr Parker.”

  “How long am I looking at?”

  “Could be ten years.”

  “What?” Parker was clearly taken aback. His jaw hung open briefly, showing stained teeth. “For some dealing?”

  “Constable Worthington and I had a very interesting conversation with Miss Nunes earlier. She said you were talking about murdering, and I quote, ‘the next little bastard that gets off the train from London to piss on my patch’.”

  Parker laughed. “She’s a junkie. She’ll say make any old crap up to get some gear.”

  “Miss Nunes was pretty convincing.”

  Parker sat back, crossed his arms and shook his head, appearing insulted. “Is that all you have? You make me laugh, you lot. It wasn’t me.”

  “Meaning you know who did kill Mr Oakley?”

  Parker unfolded his arms. “So what if I do? What’s in it for me? You letting me walk out of here?”

  “That’s very unlikely.”

  “There you go, then. I’m done here. I’ll admit to dealing, but you ain’t pinning no murder on me.” Parker turned to Lakehurst. “I want to go back to my cell.”

  Gray couldn’t get another word from Parker so he granted his demand.

  Seventeen

  Now

  Gray headed to the canteen. He got a call while he was queueing.

  Hamson. “Where are you, Sol?”

  “The ubiquitously named restaurant.”

  “I’ll be down in a few minutes. Grab me a tea, would you?” Gray took two mugs to a table and awaited the DI’s appearance. Of course, she took longer than she said, and Gray had almost finished his drink when she finally arrived.

  “Sorry,” she said. “It bloody never stops. Any useful leads on Oakley?”

  “Possibly. One of the people we pulled in this morning, guy called Parker, may know something, but he’s stitched up tight. Unless he gets a deal, of course. The woman he cuckooed, Eloise Nunes, made some noises about Parker’s involvement, but she’d be an unreliable witness in my opinion.”

  “She’s the junkie, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then I agree with you. CPS probably wouldn’t touch it. What’s Parker looking for?”

  “Freedom.”

  “Aren’t we all?” Hamson laughed, a short, rueful snort. “Not a hope in hell.”

  “Pretty much what I said, though not as bluntly.”

  Hamson sank half her tea. “Let me think about it. If there’s a chance of clearing up a murder, maybe we should come to a compromise.”

  “It’s Nunes I feel sorry for. She’s gone through a lot.”

  “I wouldn’t waste any of your heart on her, Sol. Remember, somebody she sold gear to a few weeks ago suffered an overdose.”

  Before Gray could reply, he felt a slap on his shoulder, hard enough to have made him spill his drink had his cup not been almost empty. Fowler sat down beside him.

&nb
sp; “Sorry about that, Sol,” he said, and nodded at Hamson. “Guv.”

  “I’d better be going,” said Hamson.

  “No need to leave on my behalf.”

  “Don’t flatter yourself,” said Hamson as she pushed back her chair. “There’s plenty to be getting on with.”

  “Screw you too,” mumbled Fowler as Hamson strode away.

  “I thought you pair were done with that?” asked Gray.

  “Not you as well. What’s up? You’ve a face like a dirty weekend.”

  “The Oakley murder, we’ve hit a solid dead end. Nunes, a woman sharing a house with Parker, made some noises that Parker may be involved. Of course, he’s denying everything and she’s not somebody I’d depend upon. Hamson’s thinking of striking a bargain with him, though.”

  “Christ, she’s even more of a fool than I took her to be if she thinks this Parker arsehole is actually going to give you anything. He’s pulling your chain, Sol. You know it, I know it.”

  “Maybe, but we’re stalled. Perhaps Parker really can help.”

  “Take my advice. Ignore him. If not, at least make him sweat until tomorrow.”

  “Maybe.”

  Eighteen

  Now

  If Gray had been tired this morning he was absolutely shattered now. He’d attempted to track down Wyatt several times during the day but on every occasion, something had dragged his attention away. Like the arrival of Superintendent Marsh, here to bask in the glory of a successful operation. But where had Marsh been when the real work was being done? Most likely in a meeting. In fact, he was in one now with Hamson. Gray wasn’t invited.

  Yarrow had announced that everyone was to assemble in the Incident Room at 7.00pm for a briefing. It was ten to now. Enough time to speak to Wyatt who’d just entered the room. Gray crossed over to her desk. He squatted down so he was obviously in her eyeline. But she ignored him. He coughed. Still she studiously went about her work.

  Eventually he opened his mouth to speak.

  “Don’t apologise to me again,” she said. “That’s all you ever do.”

  Gray paused, the words stuck in his throat. Sorry was absolutely what he had been going to say.

  “I wasn’t planning to,” he lied.

  Wyatt put down her pen, turned in her seat, folded her hands in her lap. “Go on then,” she challenged him. “I’m looking forward to this.”

  “I’ve tried to tell you several times.”

  “So this is my fault? It gets better and better!”

  “I didn’t mean it that way.”

  “What did you mean then, Sol?”

  “If I could just tell you!”

  “Well this is your opportunity!”

  “Hope turned up totally out of the blue and she’s pregnant.”

  “You’re going to be a grandfather? Oh my God.”

  Gray winced at Wyatt’s raised voice. “Christ, tell the world why don’t you?” He glanced over his shoulder. Nobody seemed to have heard. Small mercies.

  “I’m not sure I should be dating such an old man.” Gray glared at Wyatt and she held her hands up in surrender. “Now I’m apologising.”

  “It’s all been a hell of a surprise.”

  “Sounds like a huge understatement to me, Sol. What about the father?”

  “He’s keen but she doesn’t want the child. Now do you get why I was being awkward?”

  “Totally.”

  “All of this has been messing with my head.”

  “It’s time, people.” Yarrow in the doorway, beckoning everyone to his meeting.

  “Let’s talk about this later.” Wyatt stood. “We’d better go.” She walked past Gray. He got up as well, feeling the ache in his thighs from squatting for too long.

  Yarrow, identically to yesterday, was standing at the front of the Incident Room. Hamson was nearby again as, of course, was Marsh, beaming his head off at anyone who was unfortunate enough to catch his eye.

  When all were settled, Yarrow said, “Nearly time for you to go home, ladies and gentlemen, but not before I’ve made one more announcement.” He smiled at the collective groan. “And that’s for me to congratulate you all on your efforts today. The first Pivot operation has proven a huge success. We pulled in all but two of our targets. We uncovered valuable evidence at every property raided. Give yourselves a round of applause.”

  Yarrow clapped, quickly joined in by an enthusiastic Marsh. The rest of the team followed. Even Gray, though he rolled his eyes at Fowler in the process. When Yarrow had had enough he raised his hands, palms out. The noise quickly died away.

  “In addition, we held parallel raids at a number of properties in London which we believe were undertaking County Lines operations straight into Thanet, led by DI Marcus Pennance. Some of you know him from previous work here last year. I’m also delighted to say these, too, were a sterling success.

  “In total we’ve got thirty-one people downstairs, all of whom we expect to charge with a variety of offences. They’ll be going away for at least a year, in some cases much more. DI Pennance and his team pulled in a further forty-three suspects in the capital. We got phones at every property, all with a series of numbers in them, meaning we can take down others in the chain – both suppliers and customers. We seized a total of 12kg of crack cocaine, heroin and Spice, with a street value of approximately £1.2 million. All in all, we’ve dealt the supply route a massive blow and there’s a good chance it may never fully recover.”

  Marsh interrupted Yarrow, leading with another round of applause, though this one was brief, few of the officers bothering to join in, though he seemed not in the slightest embarrassed by his comparative failure.

  “Thank you, Superintendent,” said Yarrow. “Now, let’s not kid ourselves here. There’s going to be a lot of junkies walking the streets tonight, looking for their fix. That, in itself, is likely to lead to some problems. Also, we’re all painfully aware from past experience that creating a vacuum simply sucks others in. However, for now we have some breathing space and plenty more scrotes to chase. Superintendent Marsh would like a word.”

  Marsh took Yarrow’s space, the latter moving back a few feet to lean against the wall. Hamson nodded at her fellow officer, patted him on the shoulder.

  “Really, DCI Yarrow has said everything pertinent. However, I’d like to single out one person for special mention. One man whose sterling efforts have made so much of this operation a success. Step forward, Sergeant Fowler.” Fowler shook his head. “Come on, Mike. Don’t be shy.” Fowler’s fellow officers parted, leaving a route for him to reach Marsh. He received a shove in the shoulder from somebody, propelling him on. Reluctantly, Fowler stood beside Marsh.

  “Mike here personally identified a large proportion of the properties we targeted today. He worked long hours, undertaking surveillance and even making some deals to catch footage of the perpetrators.” Marsh clapped for a third time, aiming his hands at Fowler. The rest of the team joined in, enthusiastic and not minding Fowler’s special mention, because he had been working like a demon.

  “However,” said Marsh over the noise. “Mike failed to have one hundred per cent success, because one lot got away!” The team laughed, accompanied by Fowler. “But not to worry. For anyone who feels up for it, drinks are on me tonight next door at the Britannia.” Marsh even got a small cheer. “I hope to see as many of you as possible.” With that, the gathering broke up.

  Hamson caught Gray’s eye. “Wait,” she mouthed. Gray paused while his colleagues threaded past him, Yarrow and Marsh included. Hamson stayed against the wall. When they were alone, Hamson pushed off, crossed the room and closed the door.

  “How did your meeting with Marsh go?” asked Gray.

  “I’m not supposed to discuss the details with you.”

  “Keeping secrets, Von?” Though Gray wasn’t overly bothered.

  “I’m telling you anyway. Marsh was wittering on about your acting inspector’s position. He was asking whether Mike should be moved up to i
nspector, instead of you, based on his recent work with Pivot.”

  “If that’s what Marsh wants, it’s fine by me. I didn’t look for a promotion in the first place.”

  “Well it’s not fine with me, so I refused. I told Marsh you’re the best man for the job. Because you are.”

  “You didn’t need to stick your neck out for me.”

  “Marsh said it was my decision. However, Sol, knowing the Superintendent, it’s simply a respite. He’ll make the point again.”

  “Thanks, but why are you telling me this?”

  “Because you should know what you’re up against.”

  “You’re assuming I care.”

  “I believe you do, Sol. Just don’t screw up, okay?”

  “You can rely on me.”

  “That’s what I’m worried about. You’re a good cop and you deserve to be an inspector. Anyway, I’ll see you outside the court tomorrow.”

  “You’re not going over to the pub?”

  “I need some sleep. See you later.”

  Hamson left the room. Gray stayed behind for a few minutes, thinking about what she’d said. Maybe Fowler was a better man for the position. It was true; he’d done a hell of a job recently. Fowler had focused entirely on the task at hand in order to help him get over his marital and relationship troubles. Anyway, it wasn’t Gray’s decision who to promote. He followed in Hamson’s wake.

  “Should I be worried?” It was Wyatt, just outside the door in the corridor. “Spending time alone with your attractive boss.”

  “Just currying favour, you know how it is,” said Gray.

  “I’m going over with the Pivot team. What about you?”

  “Just for one. The big day’s tomorrow, but as Marsh is paying...”

  “The enquiry into Carslake’s suicide.”

  “I’m the star witness.”