The watching Hooley almost gave him a round of applause. This was good.
“What do you want to know?”
“We want to know everything. But I’ll give you some clues if you’d like.”
Julie Savage couldn’t draw her eyes away. She just nodded once. Even one step removed, Hooley could tell that all resistance had gone. It was remarkable; Roper had only been in there for a few minutes.
“I want you to think very carefully about the story you told us about Mark being slashed with a knife. I know most of what you told us is true, but there was something else, something you’re not telling us.”
She was silent for a long time before she started speaking – so quietly at first that he had to ask her to speak up and start again.
“I knew there was something wrong about it. I mean what happened with the men. It took me a long time to work it out but then I realised – he wasn’t frightened of them. Not really. They hurt him… but he was cross, not scared, and that’s not like him. You see, I know my brother very well and he’s a real coward at heart. I know he acts all tough, but he isn’t. I’m afraid my father used to beat him, and he’s never really got over it. If someone gets tough, he crumbles.”
Roper and Brooker shared a glance and Roper inclined his head to say she should step in.
“That all sounds very odd. Are you saying you thought the slashing was just them acting out? Why would that happen?”
“Greed,” she shrugged as if the answer was obvious. “Once I realised there was something posed about the attack, I realised he must have been involved in planning it. There’s only one thing that would make him willing to undergo pain – and that’s money. I imagine you know we had to leave Millfield when dad’s business got into trouble?” She didn’t wait for a reply. “Well Mark’s always been stupid about money. He used to say that being rich made us better than other people. But once we had financial problems, he got worse. He obsessed about money to the point where I didn't speak to him for a year. It was only when this Diamonds and Pearls opportunity came up and he needed me that I was put on board to provide the glamour.”
Brooker raised a questioning eyebrow.
“Sorry, that sounds like I’m boasting – but when we were at school, we had the nickname, Beauty and the Beast. That was tough on him, but there’s no way you’d bring him on board because of his looks”
She was on safer, more familiar ground and it showed in her body posture. She stopped sagging in her chair, sitting a little straighter.
“Emily and I were given a lot of spin about us having the ‘perfect look’ and representing the ‘rich and cultured’. It was all nonsense, but I admit it was flattering…” She stopped and looked embarrassed. “Sorry, you don’t need to hear all that stuff. The point I was trying to make was that I think he would do anything for money. Literally anything.”
“Including lying to his sister?” said Roper.
She nodded.
“Do you think he would kill for money?”
She said “no”, but very quietly and not before a telling hesitation.
Roper and Brooker both stared at her, their arms folded, their faces impassive.
Julie Savage looked at the table. “No… I mean I don’t think so… I certainly hope not.” Then she placed her head in her hands and wept silent tears.
Roper gave her a moment, but that was all. He had one last question he needed answering.
“I know you’ve told us of your doubts about what happened when he was slashed in front of you, but did you ever see him being threatened on any other occasion?”
She didn’t even have to think before answering. “Yes. And I remember it vividly because there was something about it that reminded me of the way he used to act with my father. It was at Chelsea Harbour, in the underground carpark. I’d come down to collect my car and saw him off at the far end. He was with a very big man. I could tell because he dwarfed Mark, and he’s not exactly small. The thing is, Mark was in front of him, his head hanging down and his arms at his side… It was exactly like he used to do when he was in trouble at home. You could see where the expression ‘hang dog’ comes from. That’s exactly what he looked like.”
Roper was excited. “Could you catch any details about what they were talking about?”
She shrugged. “Not really. It was too far away. I got the impression the other man was talking, and Mark was listening, but as I’ve told you it reminded me of when he was about to get beaten by our father.”
“Can you give me any details about what this man looked like, or was wearing?”
“He was tall, probably 6 feet 4 inches, maybe a bit more. He was big all over, big shoulders, and big arms. I think he had dark hair, and dark stubble, but that may have been shadows.”
Roper looked at Brooker, who made a sweeping gesture with her hands to say she had nothing else to say. Then he stood up and made for the door, turning just before he reached for the handle.
“Please keep thinking about that man. He might be crucial.”
Outside, Hooley was waiting.
“Well done, so what do we do now?”
Brooker piped up.
“I read somewhere that they kept a few staff at Chelsea Harbour. Let’s get over and see if anyone is around and saw our big man. I have a feeling we’ll find something.”
Chapter 41
Mary Lou opened her eyes. She couldn’t see a thing. It was blackout dark, made all the more frightening because it let her imagination run riot, wondering who, or what, was out there.
If that wasn’t enough, she had a blinding headache, a raging thirst – and her brain felt like it was full of holes. It didn’t take a genius to work out that she’d been drugged. This sluggishness was just part of the side effects.
Slowly, she grew accustomed to her surroundings. She was lying on her back on a narrow bed, bound in a way that prevented her from sitting up. In the dark it was hard to be sure what was holding her, but it felt like some sort of strong tape.
She did have free movement of her hands, so she fumbled around in the desperate hope that there was a glass of water within reach. There was – but, with a frustration that made her scream out, she only became aware of this when she knocked it over.
She struggled wildly against the restraints, but quickly gave up. The thrashing around was making her experience flashing lights and, coupled with the head pain, they only induced a sense of nausea. She lay back panting and tried to soothe her terror.
A series of questions were floating in her mind. How had she you got here? Where was here? Did she have a chance of surviving?
She knew her situation was bleak. She already suspected her former lover was capable of mass murder – so what would one more victim add to his tally? She hadn’t been brought here to talk over old times.
Her sense of terror was slowly being replaced by self-recrimination. Yet again, she had allowed her emotions for this man to get in the way of common sense, and detailed planning.
These were the character traits she was known for. Everyone at her office knew Healy never acted without careful thought. Yet here she was, bound and captured after rushing off to confront him, acting so fast she hadn’t told anyone where she was going.
Without warning, the space was filled with shockingly bright light, forcing her to cover her eyes. When she finally felt safe enough to open them, she looked up. A man made of shadows was looming over her. She felt a shock, as though she had been punched in the stomach.
There he was: Peter Street, grinning like the irritating narcissist he was. She couldn't believe she had once found that smile charming. Now she could see through it to the real man beneath, a man who had nothing but contempt for the rest of humanity.
Despite being in his mid-forties, he dressed in the hipster fashion of someone twenty years younger. A well-trimmed beard covered most of his face. He was short, well below average height, and used shoe lifts to disguise it. Even now, he was extremely skinny. She’d never mi
nded anything about the way he dressed, thinking it was perfectly reasonable to try and stay young at heart – but now she could see, along with the shoes, that it was one of the ways he tried to deceive people.
To her eternal shame, she had once thought he was the intellectual equal to John Ryder. Too late, she had learned she was wrong. Ryder was a mathematical prodigy and brilliant entrepreneur. Street was nothing but a marketing man with a colossal ego. His success owed more to native cunning than serious brain power.
She glared at him with hate filled eyes.
He sneered back at her. ‘If looks could kill, my dear, then I would have died a long time ago. But glare away, it won’t make one iota of difference. I’m in charge and you are my little victim.”
He'd deliberately emphasised the phrase “my dear”, knowing it was something she found extremely patronising. It was a measure of the man that he was bothering with such things, even when he was the one holding all the power.
He pantomimed looking at his watch. “I’d love to spend time chatting and catching up,” he leered, “but time is pressing. I had to cancel a couple of important appointments just to come and see you this evening, so I really don't want to waste any more time than I have to.”
The door opened and a giant of a man – the one who’d snatched her in the car park – walked in. His shoulders were so wide he had to navigate carefully to get through the door frame. As if his size wasn't intimidating enough, he was also wearing a terrifying mask. It reminded Healy of a documentary she had once seen about voodoo, made out of wood with white lines painted on it.
Street’s sneering had given way to a sly smile as he noted the impact this frightening figure was having on his former conquest. “I’m not going to pretend,” he said. “This is going to hurt you and it's going to hurt a lot. If you want my advice, and you really should take it, then I would answer some questions and maybe buy yourself a little time.”
His cold eyes flitted over her body and she fought the urge to shiver, not wanting to give him any advantage. He smiled maliciously as he said, “You really are getting a little bit too old, aren't you? I think I may well have had the best of you.”
To her horror, she started to cry. The cruelty of that last remark had brought home to her just how helpless she was. The stress was too much and now she had crumpled in front of him, increasing her self-loathing.
“You can blubber as much as you like. No-one's coming to your rescue. You're quite alone and you need to get ready, because very soon my man here -” he gestured at the giant, “- will give you a little taste of what to expect.”
He paused once more, if only to appraise her.
“We learned some time ago that people take advantage if we don’t do things properly. You’d be amazed at how a little bit of torture helps most people become focused and helpful. I'm afraid that means you need to experience some discomfort before you start answering my questions. It's the only way I can guarantee you tell me the truth. You need to be afraid of the pain starting again to make sure you are fully incentivised.”
He bent down close to her face, pretending to stroke her cheek in a comforting fashion. But his real intentions were laid bare when he pinched her cheek, making her shout out.
“Just a little taste of what's to come. I'll leave you to get better acquainted – and then, when I come back, I'll have some questions. Any delays in answering, any prevarication, any obvious lies, and we go back to the punishment.”
He abruptly stood, closing the door behind him and plunging the room back into darkness. Then, for what seemed like a long time, nothing happened. Healy simply chewed her lower lip as she waited in the darkness. She felt as though her heart might burst out of her chest.
As the silence grew, her ragged breathing sounded loud in her ears. But, as the moments stretched on, she became aware of the steady breathing of the man who was going to hurt her.
A sudden wash of sour breath made her flinch; she knew he was getting closer as he prepared to attack. Something cold and sharp pressed against her cheek.
She opened her mouth to scream.
It was a blade, pressing against her skin.
Chapter 42
Roper and Brooker were champing at the bit to get to Chelsea Harbour and Hooley was pleased to see them go. While he wanted to get back to Mark Savage, it wouldn’t hurt to leave the man to stew a little while longer and the “big man” was an important clue because it added to the sense that Roper was on the right track.
As they set off, he picked up the phone - this was also a good opportunity to update Julie Mayweather.
An unmarked car was waiting outside the building when Roper and Brooker made it outside. As they clambered into the back the driver turned around. “Might be best if we turn on the lights. This area, and as far as the Kings Road, is pretty badly locked up. No explanation, just one of those things, but if you two want to get down there today I don’t think we have any choice.”
Even with the flashing blue lights and judicious use of the siren, it still took more than twenty minutes to arrive at their destination.
“Where do you want to start?” asked Brooker as they stood on the pavement looking over to the administrative HQ for Diamonds and Pearls.
Roper craned his head towards the entrance. “Let’s start there with the security guard. Maybe he saw something.”
Walking over to the locked glass doors they held up their ID cards, making the security guard get up to check. He glanced at them both and then back at Roper’s, before opening the door.
“I remember you from last time,” he told Roper. “You found those three yet? “
Roper ignored the man’s question and came up with his own. “This might sound a bit strange but we’re looking for a man who had dealings with Mark Savage. He came here a few times.”
“What did he look like?”
“Big. The kind of a guy you might remember.”
The man thought deeply.
“There was a feller. Enormous he was. I saw him a couple of months ago. One of those Range Rover cars pulled up right where you just got dropped.
“You know how big those cars are, right? Well this bloke was struggling to get out of the door. Huge shoulders, like a heavyweight boxer. He was massive.”
Brooker was pleased. It seemed the man wasn’t just big he was incredibly large - which meant there was more chance they could track him down. They were tempted to get back immediately but might as well finish off first.
Roper asked. “Anyone from the company around today?”
“Sure, there’s a few people. Upstairs and in the offices.” He pointed at the lifts. “Third floor. Knock yourselves out.”
Thirty minutes later, the pair had drawn a blank and were back with the security guard.
“I don’t suppose you’ve managed to dredge up a bit more about our big man, have you?”
The guard looked pleased with himself. “I saw the big guy a couple more times. Each time Mr. Savage was waiting for him.”
Brooker asked. “Did Mr. Savage seem scared of him at all? Maybe nervous at meeting him?”
The guard shook his head. “Nah, nothing like that. They were extremely pally, shaking hands, and that, patting each other on the back. Like they were proper bros.”
◆◆◆
Hooley was delighted with the new information.
“You’ve proved he exists, improved the description, and discovered something about the relationship. Well done.”
The DCI had a spring in his step as he led them back to the interview rooms to talk to Mark Savage.
“Let’s get to it,” he said and opened the door.
All three walked in. Savage was sitting at one side of an oblong table, with chairs either side of him. Roper and Brooker took the facing chairs and Hooley sat at the end to create a little space of his own.
Savage nodded politely. “How can I be of assistance, gentlemen and lady?”
The three detectives ignored him as they sat do
wn.
“You know what assistance you can give us,” Hooley began, “and that is by helping us with a full and a detailed statement about what has gone on. If you give us the right information, including names and dates, then we can talk about a deal.”
Savage flushed with anger. “Stop messing me around. I've already told you that I’m willing to talk, and you know what my price is. I want to walk out of here at the end of the day, free to go wherever I want.”
Hooley let out a snort of derision. “I know what you want – and I'm here to tell you that you are this far from getting it.” He spread his arms wide to emphasise the point. “Let me explain how this will work. You tell us things and, if you tell us enough, and the information is useful, then we can start to think about a deal.”
Savage jumped to his feet. “Are you taking me for a fool? This is a stitch up! I'm offering to help you and you’re just slinging it back in my face!”
“Sit down,” Hooley said, his tone commanding. “You really don't listen, do you? Why should we handout free passes to any spiv who wants one?”
The barb hit home harder than intended. “Don't call me a spiv. I'm a serious businessman. I made more money last month than all three of you will make in a year.” The words were spat out as he remained standing, leaning on the edge of the table, panting with anger.
Hooley was pleased to note that Roper and Brooker were looking unimpressed by his bizarre diatribe. Making a soothing gesture with his hands, he went on, “We all want the same thing here, it's just the way we go about it. If you give me a moment, perhaps I can reassure you that we’re doing everything we can to give you what you asked for.”
Savage didn’t reply, sitting down with surly ill grace.
The DCI said, “This may surprise you, but I’m inclined to believe that you have something useful for us. Because you have already admitted to serious offences, I can’t overlook those, but I can make recommendations.”
He leaned back in his chair, folded his arms and stared at Savage.
Just Kill Them Page 17
