The Hero's Fall (DCI Cook Thriller Series Book 14)

by Phillip Strang

  ‘You want me to act illegally for you? Insider trading, is that it?’

  ‘Nothing’s illegal, not until you’re caught. I’ll agree I was wrong to disparage you at the press conference, but then I had that awful Ashley Otway asking questions. What could I do?’

  ‘You could have spoken to me beforehand. I might have gone along with you.’

  ‘Jim, it doesn’t work like that, and you know it. There’s no A to Z on this. Your presence here shows me possibilities that I hadn’t seen before.’

  ‘Simmons, you knew about his stunt.’

  ‘Did I? It’s not written down anywhere, not that I was overthinking about it when you told me. I believe I told you to make sure he didn’t fall.’

  ‘Which you will deny.’

  ‘I will, as you must.’

  ‘Tricia knows the truth.’

  ‘She’ll not talk, not as long as she’s employed here.’

  ‘And if the programme fails, the station is under threat?’

  ‘Then we’d better make sure that none of those eventualities occurs. Are you on board?’ Jaden said.

  ‘I didn’t come here to work for you.’

  ‘Then why come? Bored at home?’

  ‘You know I am. Who took that shot?’

  ‘I don’t know, nor do I care. He had to go, one way or the other. Macho man, the great adventurer he might have been, but the viewers, most of them no more than a dozen brain cells between them, want tits and arse, and for that, Tricia is ideal.’

  ‘More than adequate,’ Breslaw said. ‘Tom Taylor?’

  ‘He’ll stay as the head of programming. You’ll report to me. I suggest we don’t meet here, not for now.’

  ‘Do you intend to slag me off to Ashley Otway again?’

  ‘If I must.’

  ‘I might regret it,’ Breslaw said as he shook Jaden’s hand.

  ‘Just like old times.’

  It was, Breslaw thought, apart from two differences: he had come to the building with physical violence on his mind, and someone had killed Simmons.

  ***

  Bacon and eggs weren’t on the menu as Kate Hampton drew up at her sister-in-law’s farmhouse. Deb Hampton was in the yard, a shovel in her hand, cleaning up the mess left by the cows that had come into the barn for milking.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ Deb said, wanting to throw a pile of manure over the woman.

  Winding down the window, Kate looked over at the shovel and the woman. ‘Do it if you want. I deserve it,’ she said.

  ‘What’s happened? Skinner give you the heave-ho, tired of seeing your fat arse bobbing up and down, found himself someone younger and tastier?’

  ‘I dumped him. I’ve wronged Mike. We need to talk.’

  ‘You’re still a bitch, told the police you were,’ Deb said.

  ‘I am, and so are you. Let’s not pretend to like each other. You’re a snivelling toad of a woman, a man dressed up in women’s clothing.’

  Deb Hampton put down the shovel and laughed raucously. ‘Women’s clothing? A pair of overalls, steel toe-capped boots?’

  ‘Maybe not today. A truce?’

  ‘For Mike, not for you.’

  ‘Yes, for Mike.’

  Buster, Deb’s faithful companion, sensing the animosity, sniffed around Kate’s ankles as she got out of the car, looked up at the woman and snarled.

  ‘More sense than me,’ Deb said.

  ‘Still hanging in?’

  ‘Buster loves me unconditionally, doesn’t care if I look like the witch from hell.’

  ‘I never thought that of you.’

  ‘You did. Did you ever introduce me to your parents or your friends?’

  ‘You’re right. I didn’t. A stuck-up bitch, that’s me.’

  ‘Seeing that you’re here, come inside and take a seat. Don’t take Buster’s. He’s particular about who he sits with. You’ll have tea?’

  Buster maintained a neutral stance as calm settled in the room. Outside, the weather was overcast, but Kate had to admit that even though the house was pokey and not as clean as it should be, it had a homely, lived-in look. Not unlike the house she had shared with Mike when they first moved in together. Back then, evenings in front of a fire, lovemaking on a sheepskin rug.

  ‘Why are you here?’ Deb asked. She placed two mugs of tea on an old table, one leg shorter than the other. It moved slightly. ‘I’ll fix it one day,’ she said.

  ‘On your own?’

  ‘I’ve got a man, comes over occasionally, not that you’d like him.’

  ‘Wouldn’t I?’

  ‘Not the brightest, never been anywhere, not even sure he’s been out of the county. But he’s honest, doesn’t screw around…’

  ‘Not like me.’

  ‘What is it with you? Mike’s a decent man, and even before, you were screwing whoever.’

  ‘The thrill of the chase.’

  ‘What chase? You’re not a bad-looking woman; I’ll give you that. All you need to do is hang a sign around your neck, and they’ll be queuing up.’

  Buster, sensing an accord between the two women, raised himself and went and sat down next to Kate.

  ‘Even the dog thinks you’re alright.’

  ‘Will you?’

  ‘Not that easy. A dumb animal or a man and you flaunting the assets, not much difference between them, come to think of it.’

  ‘I’m not a shameless hussy. Sure, I cheated on Mike, but it wasn’t that often.’

  ‘Once is fine, two is pushing it, three’s adultery. Is that how it works? Numerical screwing?’

  ‘You make it sound dirty.’

  ‘Kate, I’ve screwed around, a biker’s chick. I know all about right and wrong, have seen the worst of people, but they had a code, not that others would understand. Their code was anarchy, do what you want, stuff the consequences, and the law was an arse. But you don’t come from that background. Your values, the same as Mike’s, the same as mine, were formed differently.’

  ‘You went astray.’

  ‘I did, and don’t I know it. Every time I look at myself in the bathroom mirror, marked up like a harlequin’s nightmare, unlikely to have children.’

  ‘Sorry about that. I didn’t know.’

  ‘Don’t be, not your fault.’

  Brave words, Kate could see, but behind the harsh exterior of her sister-in-law, there was a sadness, regret about what could have been. The same as she felt about herself, but she hadn’t run with the wrong crowd or been abused or passed from one biker to the next. All she had been was loved, not with emotion, but physical love.

  She realised that Deb had a reason for her outlook on life; she, Kate Hampton, Mike’s wife, did not.

  ‘It’s not easy living with Mike,’ Kate said.

  ‘What do you expect? Unable to get out, to do what he loved, Angus Simmons dead.’

  ‘They were close.’

  ‘I used to think they were into each other, used to tease Mike about it.’

  ‘Were they?’

  ‘Not Mike. Angus was a bit that way inclined, not that I ever had proof. Even if I had, what does it matter?’

  ‘It doesn’t. I shouldn’t have told him that I was having an affair with Angus the day he left.’

  ‘You shouldn’t have, not sure if it would have made much difference if you’d given Justin Skinner’s name.’

  ‘They wouldn’t have argued on the mountain, not about Justin.’

  ‘You’re to blame, made a right hash of it. If I had any sense, I’d kick you out of here.’

  ‘But you won’t. You’ll hear me out?’

  ‘Buster thinks you’re worth it. I’ll rely on his judgement.’

  ‘Mike still believes I was unfaithful with Angus, but that wasn’t true.’

  ‘It’s not important. It’s what happened on Cerro Torre, that is. For me, Angus was responsible, but then that’s Mike’s version of events.’

  ‘Angus always claimed that it was an accident, an explanation accepted by the majo
rity. Are you willing to broach the possibility that Mike’s statement was tainted by anger?’ Kate said.

  ‘No, neither should you, not if you want to get back with him. But then I don’t trust you. For me, I know what I did, what happened; I’ve learnt to live with it, no intention of repeating.’

  ‘The shaven head, the sloppy dress?’ Kate said.

  ‘Out in all weathers, tending to the livestock, mucking out. Not a place for a fancy hairstyle. Practical, that’s what it is, not that I was ever fashion conscious, too masculine, too much of a tomboy.’

  ‘A fellow mountaineer?’

  ‘I could have been, climbed with Mike a couple of times, but the elite, they’re fanatical, a dedication above and beyond the reach of mere mortals. I had a wild streak, men and drugs. Mike was ascetic, would have made a good monk.’

  ‘How do I make it up with Mike? I assume you approve.’

  ‘You assume wrong. You’ve been a bitch up till now. Why should you stop? Why should I trust you after all you’ve done before?’

  ‘You can’t, but you have to trust me.’

  ‘Not me, not so easy. You might have been able to twist Angus around your little finger, get Justin Skinner and whoever hot under the collar, but all I see is a painted whore, screw for England if you could.’

  Not surprised by Deb’s effrontery, Kate, who had locked horns with the woman before, did not respond to the insult. Instead, she said, ‘Think of Mike, what’s best for him. How to bring him out of himself.’

  ‘I’m considering. It’s just that you’ll get your fancy tickled soon enough, and then he’ll be back where he started,’ Deb said.

  ‘It’s worth the risk.’

  ‘With risk comes reward.’

  ‘Clichéd, but what’s the reward?’

  ‘Mike’s peace of mind,’ Deb said. ‘You, Kate, are an unknown quantity, but I’ll go along with you for now. Truce?’

  ‘For now.’

  ‘Great. I’ll give you a pair of overalls, some boots. Your penance starts here. If Buster still likes you afterwards, no longer smelling like a Chinese boudoir, more of carbolic soap, then we can work on Mike’s rehabilitation; yours, as well.’

  ‘Did you take that shot?’ Kate asked.

  ‘Blunt and to the point,’ Deb said as she handed over the overalls. ‘No, I didn’t. Forgive and forget, that’s my creed, although I know who did.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Another day, another conversation. I can’t prove it, never will, and I’m not willing to involve myself in an infantile search for vengeance, not for Angus, not even for Mike, and certainly not for you.’

  ‘You think I did it, don’t you? Tell me, why?’

  ‘Not murder, but your sins are worse.’

  ‘The police?’

  ‘I didn’t tell them. If they’re smart, they’ll discover it. There’s someone else, hidden in view, someone with little empathy, a callous nature, a person who treats others with contempt.’

  ‘Justin Skinner?’

  ‘Stop asking stupid questions. You remember that shovel from before?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘It’s yours. Do a decent job, and I’ll make you lunch, let you sample my home-made wine. It’s got a kick to it, more than the hind legs of a donkey.’

  ‘Deb, thanks,’ Kate said.

  ‘Don’t thank me, not yet. You’re still a bitch.’

  Chapter 15

  A check of those with the necessary skill to take the shot that dislodged Angus Simmons from the Shard had found four persons. Justin Skinner, an accomplished cross-country skier, had represented the United Kingdom at the winter Olympics, coming fifth in the Biathlon, shooting at a target on the route. Deborah Hampton shot rabbits on her farm and belonged to a local shooting club in Dorset. However, after what had been a shaky start, she was rapidly becoming the most reliable of the witnesses, in that she had phoned up Homicide after Kate Hampton’s unexpected visit, told them about her. She told that about Kate mucking out the stable, falling flat on her face in a pile of manure, even laughing after it had happened, and then scrubbing down with carbolic in a tub of cold water.

  ‘Justice for the bitch,’ Deb had said, causing a chuckle from those in Homicide. She failed to mention that she had a suspicion as to who had killed Angus, though.

  Another person with the necessary skill was Charles Simmons, the deceased’s father, and last but not least, Mike Hampton. Angus’s mother, Gwyneth, thought to have been a competent shot, had confirmed she was a pacifist and no longer owned a weapon.

  The speed with which Maddox Timberley had moved on to another man concerned Homicide. However, a phone call to her while on a photo shoot in Barbados had received a blunt denial. ‘Not me. I’m hot property, Angus’s woman. My management company reckons they can milk my notoriety, splash it around on social media, wherever they can.’

  ‘You approve?’ Wendy asked on the conference line.

  ‘My mother’s not too keen on me being portrayed as easy, but I’m not against it. Celebrity and fame are illusive. You know how it works. It’s not always the most talented or the most beautiful who makes it, not the most intelligent. To be honest,’ Maddox said, ‘I’m not that attractive, not when the makeup’s off, blotchy skin, acne scars, and my nose isn’t the one I was born with. Not mutton dressed up as lamb, not yet, but I choose this life; and I chose Angus, a decent man, not like some of the sleaze-buckets I have to deal with, think they can get a leg over any time they want if they’re dangling a contract and a trip to the Caribbean.’

  ‘You’re there now,’ Isaac reminded her.

  ‘The photographer reckons he’s God’s gift; he’s sidling up to me, trying to get a better angle, to make me remove more clothes, wiggle my assets in his face, but he’s got no chance.’

  ‘Clothes haven’t been an issue for you in the past.’

  ‘In the past, when I was starting. I needed an edge back then, not that I was cheap…’

  ‘Sometimes you did things your mother wouldn’t approve of?’

  ‘I wouldn’t be the first. You choose your life; I thought I knew the realities, but I was naïve.’

  ‘No nudity now?’

  ‘Depends.’

  ‘On what?’

  ‘Who’s paying and how much. If it’s classy, helps my career, why not?’

  ‘Maddox, let’s be honest amongst ourselves,’ Wendy said. ‘You’re young, attractive, and your man’s dead. You’re not going to embrace virtue, are you?’

  ‘No, and why should I? It’s not that I was ever promiscuous, but Angus wasn’t my first lover, not even my first love. When the time’s right, but not with the man they’re pairing me with. He’s not a bad-looking man, but he’s not my type. Sure, if it’s good for my career, I’ll be seen with him, arm in arm, dancing together, even the occasional kiss, but that’s where it ends. No hanky-panky, topless photos, or bleary early-morning shots snapped by a long lens.’

  ‘We’ve met with Mike Hampton’s sister.’

  ‘She was rude to me, looked me up and down, thought I was a piece of trash.’

  ‘Did she? The truth?’

  ‘That’s how I saw it. She didn’t speak, not to me, but Angus. She told him that Mike didn’t want to see him and that he could go to hell.’

  ‘It’s important,’ Wendy said. ‘We’ve met with Deborah Hampton. She’s not a person to grace a magazine cover or to get a trip to Barbados, but aside from her disarming manner and her appearance, she seems to be a decent person, not as you portrayed her.’

  ‘I might have been harsh,’ Maddox said. ‘She was not pleasant. I know that.’

  ‘She wouldn’t have approved of you,’ Isaac said. ‘She would have thought you to be shallow, hanging off the shirt-tails of a famous man. Were you?’

  ‘No. We lived together. It was serious.’

  ‘Was it? Did he make love to you, sleep in the same bed? Or was it a stunt cooked up by his management company? Money paid to you to play along. After all, you�
�ve admitted that the man you’re now going around with is a publicity stunt, and you’re not opposed to milking it for what it’s worth.’

  ‘Angus wasn’t the greatest lover, no animal passion, a bit of a dullard in the bedroom, but our relationship was serious, everybody knows that.’

  ‘So do we,’ Isaac said. ‘I’m pushing you, need to. We’ve not got an angle on why he died, and your career seems insufficient reason.’

  ‘That’s a dreadful thought that I had wanted Angus to die.’

  ‘People have died for less.’

  ‘In your sordid world, they might. In mine, it’s the casting couch; not much difference, I suppose.’

  ‘Not a lot,’ Isaac conceded. ‘Good night. Give us a call when you’re back in London.’

  ‘Three days’ time. Call my home at any time. I’ll be alone.’

  Isaac ended the call, looked over at Wendy. ‘Did you believe her?’

  ‘Not totally, but then I don’t know of anyone we can trust, not completely.’

  ‘Deborah Hampton?’

  ‘I trust her more than Maddox,’ Wendy said. ‘It’s the edge she talked about. What a person needs to do to get ahead, and she’s done well, and Angus has given her a boost. But if his death has helped her, who knows.’

  ***

  Two investigations were underway, one by Homicide, the other by Ashley Otway. After Jerome Jaden’s attempt to ignore her at the press conference, her editor had given her instructions to do what she did best, to dig deep into the underbelly of the television station. And besides, the newspaper’s owner had a vested interest in another television station, and in business, as in love, all’s fair.

  Invigorated, refreshed, and glad to be free of making small talk with another petulant celebrity with the intellect of a ten-year-old, she had offloaded the next interview to a nineteen-year-old junior. A fan of the man, she had been delighted to get the interview.

  Homicide was aware that Otway was sniffing around, making waves, digging deep, getting under Jaden’s skin, and especially irritating Babbage. He had tried the heavy tactics, threatened the newspaper, received a rebuke from their legal department.