Time To Go

by Time To Go (epub)

  Somerville inclined her head. ‘You mean we do. You wouldn’t know about them if we hadn’t told you, and Victoria Smith would have no idea.’

  ‘Unless I prod Reuben in the right direction and he tells me himself.’

  ‘If he knows about it at all.’ Somerville folded her arms. ‘Nathan rented a flat in Ealing Broadway, not far from his brother’s club. We’ve gone over it – there was blood on the bed sheets, bandages, cotton wool and antiseptic in a bag on the kitchen table, plus some that had been opened and used in the bathroom. Now we know about the mess his back was in, what we found makes sense.’

  ‘You think he went back there after… well, whatever happened to him, and lay low?’ Ewan asked.

  Somerville turned to him. ‘Again, we need to find out. We’re talking to his neighbours, local taxi firms, anyone we think might be able to help us, but without a more definite time frame, it’s even harder than usual. It seems as though he tried to clean and dress his wounds – or someone else did.’

  Ewan nodded. ‘It would have to be someone else, wouldn’t it? He wouldn’t be able to do it himself, not his back.’

  ‘Jolene Townsend’s fingerprints were found in Nathan’s flat, but so were Reuben Nash’s, as you’d expect. There were loads more we couldn’t identify,’ Achebe said.

  ‘What about any prints on the medical stuff?’ Ewan wanted to know. Caelan was pleased to see him asking questions, making suggestions. She knew he lacked confidence and was also aware he needed to adjust to his new role in his own time.

  ‘They couldn’t get anything useful, not even from the bottle of antiseptic. Too many people have handled it,’ Somerville said. She uncrossed her arms, tucked her hair behind her ears. Caelan knew the other woman usually wore a wedding ring, but she saw it was missing and wondered if Achebe had realised. Somerville didn’t seem the type to confide in anyone, but she doubted Achebe missed much. She looked away, not wanting Somerville to notice her interest. It was none of her business.

  ‘Maybe Jolene helped Nathan after he was hurt then?’ she said.

  ‘It’s possible. We found a receipt in the bag with the bandages and stuff showing they’d been purchased in one of the local branches of Tesco three days ago,’ said Achebe.

  ‘We’re pretty sure it was Nathan himself who bought the items, looking at the CCTV from the store, but it’s not definite,’ Somerville added. ‘It was a cash sale, one of the self-service checkouts. The person buying them is the right height and build, but it’s the usual story – baseball cap, head down… almost as though they knew we’d come looking for them.’

  ‘Maybe the person who did it, or ordered it to happen, sent Nathan on his way with a bag of supplies to tidy himself up afterwards?’ Ewan looked disgusted and Caelan couldn’t blame him.

  ‘There must have been more than one person involved,’ Somerville pointed out. ‘Maybe even three or four. Nathan had been tied to something, which means he must have been overpowered. Even if he was drugged, it would take more than one person to lift him, get him upright or onto a table.’

  ‘Harris and his men,’ Achebe said, though he didn’t sound convinced.

  ‘Maybe Nathan never saw who gave him the beating. A bag over his head, face down on the table or against a post…’ Caelan said.

  ‘Depends what the point of it was, I suppose,’ said Somerville. ‘If they wanted information, someone would have needed to speak to him. If it was meant as a warning, maybe not.’

  ‘When did the pathologist say the wounds were inflicted?’ Caelan asked.

  ‘He said a couple of days before death, which ties in with the CCTV from the supermarket.’ Achebe finished his coffee and crossed the room to drop the cup into the bin. ‘There are people we need to talk to – Johnny Bates and Chris Walsh to begin with.’

  ‘Johnny… You’re talking about the two men who babysit Harris?’ Caelan said.

  Achebe looked at her. ‘Do you know their backgrounds?’

  ‘No. I’m assuming they both have records?’

  ‘And both have served time. Couple of months here, a year or two there. The usual list – assault, ABH, unlawful wounding. No weapons used by either of them, but they’re not shy about using their fists,’ Achebe said. ‘Obviously we have a record of their fingerprints but none were found in Nathan’s flat.’

  ‘There were no traces of the flogging having taken place in Nathan’s home, though?’ Caelan asked, though she was sure it would have been mentioned already.

  ‘None, and there would have been,’ said Somerville.

  ‘And the neighbours would have heard. I doubt anyone could have taken a thrashing like that without making a sound, and there are flats above, below and to either side. We’ve spoken to most of the neighbours, and so far no one can help us.’

  ‘We have to talk to the brother again.’ Somerville’s tone was that of someone closing an argument.

  ‘When?’ Caelan looked from Somerville to Achebe. Achebe smiled.

  ‘I suppose you want to see him first?’

  She thought about it. ‘No. I think I might get more from him later if you interview him now. He’ll probably be angry, upset – he might want someone to complain to.’ She met Achebe’s eyes. ‘What do you think?’

  ‘Sounds like a plan. We’ll be making it official this time, bringing him to the station, cautioning him. Reckon it might ruffle his feathers if he realises he’s a suspect.’

  There was a silence. Caelan finished her coffee and set the empty cup on the tiny shelf beside the bed.

  ‘What about the attack on Mulligan?’ she asked.

  ‘It’s early days, but so far it’s the same story,’ Somerville said. ‘No one saw anything, not even some bloke with a baseball bat marching into his house, which you think would have raised eyebrows. Some of the neighbours are still at work, so we haven’t spoken to them yet, but we’re not hopeful. What could they have seen if they weren’t at home when it happened?’

  ‘Truth told, we have nothing,’ said Achebe.

  ‘Except the link with the baseball bat,’ Ewan pointed out.

  ‘And that’s probably at the bottom of the Thames by now.’ Achebe massaged his temples, wincing as he did so.

  ‘Headache?’ Caelan asked. Her own had subsided, but she still felt as though she could sleep for a week.

  ‘Hoping it doesn’t turn into a migraine. If it does, I’ll be useless for the rest of the day, and the boss won’t be happy.’ Achebe took a box of headache tablets from his jacket pocket and popped two into his palm. ‘Okay if I use the bathroom?’

  ‘Of course.’ Caelan wouldn’t want to have to tell Adele Brady she was going home with a headache either.

  ‘Cheers.’

  Achebe didn’t bother to close the door, and they heard the tap running, then him spluttering.

  ‘Is there any update on Lucy Mulligan?’ Caelan asked as he came back into the room.

  ‘Nothing. No activity on her debit or credit card or bank account. Housemates haven’t seen or heard from her, she hasn’t been in touch with the unit her mother’s in, and she usually calls at least once a week to check on her. There’s been no contact with anyone at the university either, which in my view is the most concerning thing.’ Achebe sat back down on the sofa. ‘She’s the perfect student, totally dedicated.’

  Caelan nodded. ‘She told Penrith she couldn’t go into a safe house because it would disrupt her studies.’

  ‘There you go then. Wherever she is, I doubt she went there voluntarily.’

  ‘What about her computer? Have we been able to examine it? Penrith said it had been smashed up.’

  ‘It had, and whoever was responsible did a thorough job. Our geeks have managed to have a poke around, but there’s nothing that can help us.’ Achebe’s frustration showed on his face. ‘As I understand it, she’d pretty much wiped it clean.’

  ‘Really? As though she knew someone might come for her?’ Caelan made it a question, though it seemed the obvious conclusion. />
  ‘Maybe,’ Somerville said. ‘Though it must be backed up in the Cloud somewhere, or whatever the terminology is these days. Again, the geeks are seeing what they can do.’

  ‘Apart from the injuries to Nathan’s back, that’s all we have. Three cases, and the progress we’ve made on any of them sits somewhere between nothing and zero.’

  ‘We’re no closer to being able to identify the murdered woman in the photo sent to Lucy Mulligan, or the other two victims?’ Caelan saw the three faces in her mind. Three anonymous, voiceless people, forgotten and abandoned. Unmissed. She remembered what Mulligan had said: A quiet funeral, no big do with full honours for you, because let’s face it, no one knows who you are. You’re faceless. She pushed the memory away, focusing on Achebe.

  ‘Still nothing,’ he said. ‘No matches in any missing person report we’ve been able to access. No matches when we checked their fingerprints or DNA either. We’ll keep trying, but…’ He spread his hands, frustrated. ‘I hate not being able to at least give them a name.’

  ‘We will,’ Somerville told him.

  Achebe didn’t look convinced as he checked his watch. ‘Jen, we should be going. Can you call and ask for Reuben Nash to be brought in, please?’

  Somerville rose and left the room without a word. Achebe watched her go and then stood.

  ‘Is she okay?’ Caelan asked.

  ‘Jen? I think so. Some stuff going on at home.’ Achebe headed for the door, then checked himself and turned back. ‘There is something else. Ryan Glennister.’

  ‘You’ve found him? I assumed someone would be on it. Penrith said he’d speak to Brady.’

  Achebe laughed. ‘He did, but we haven’t been looking. Even Ian Penrith can’t expect us to run four investigations simultaneously. No, you could say Ryan made it easy for us. I had a call about it on the way over here – he was involved in a hit and run earlier. Smacked off his tits and stumbled in front of a car, ended up in A and E. He’s a bit banged up, but he’ll be okay. Might be time for him to check back into rehab.’

  ‘The driver didn’t stop?’ Caelan was already thinking about what this might mean. She’d wondered from the start if Glennister could tell them anything about Mulligan and his dodgy dealings, but Penrith hadn’t seen it as worth pursuing. Maybe it was coincidence, but maybe someone else saw Glennister as a possible source of information too. She had told Mulligan about Glennister being at Lucy’s house, and though Mulligan couldn’t have been driving the car that hit Glennister, he could have paid someone else to do it. She rubbed her aching eyes, despairing of the whole situation.

  ‘More questions, no answers.’ Achebe’s smile was knowing.

  ‘Has anyone spoken to him?’

  ‘Local officers took a statement, but it doesn’t make much sense. The hospital did find another man’s wallet in Glennister’s pocket, though. He wouldn’t explain how he’d got it, but I doubt he tripped over it in the street. They’re going to have another chat when he comes down from whatever he’s on plus whatever the hospital gave him.’

  ‘Where did it happen?’ Caelan asked.

  ‘I wasn’t told. I think he was taken to the Royal Free. Listen, I need to go. No doubt we’ll talk again soon.’

  With a wave, Achebe was gone. Caelan turned to Ewan.

  ‘What do you think?’ she said.

  ‘About Glennister?’

  ‘I knew I should have been looking for him.’

  ‘But Penrith said­—’

  ‘I know what he said.’ Caelan raised a hand. ‘Sorry. It’s just…’

  ‘Frustrating.’ Ewan gave her a sidelong glance.

  ‘What?’ Caelan spoke quietly, realising there was more he wanted to say.

  ‘Well, Nathan Nash is dead, Mulligan’s in intensive care, his sister’s still missing and now Ryan Glennister’s been hurt too. It’s worrying. I thought we were just here to gather information, but since we started poking around…’

  ‘Everything’s gone to shit.’

  He smiled. ‘Exactly.’

  ‘Mulligan keeping quiet about the money he owes Harris didn’t help. We could have handled it differently if we’d known. Now I’m trapped between Harris and Reuben Nash.’

  Ewan shuffled his feet. ‘After what he did to you today… I know you can handle it, handle him, but he could have had a knife, a gun, anything. You’re putting yourself in danger based on the word of Mulligan, who will do anything to keep himself out of prison. You told Penrith this was a waste of time, and I think you were right. You don’t work for the Met any more – you can walk away at any time.’

  Caelan paused. ‘Maybe, but…’

  ‘Lucy Mulligan’s still missing. I know.’

  ‘And while she is, I can’t tell Penrith to stick the whole job up his arse.’

  ‘Can’t you?’

  She looked at him. ‘You know I can’t.’

  ‘Fair enough. What’s next?’

  ‘We do as we’re told.’

  25

  Caelan and Ewan went back to the newsagent’s where Jolene Townsend worked.

  ‘Let’s hope she’s still here,’ Caelan said as they neared the shop. ‘She’ll probably lock the door when she sees us – me, anyway.’

  They slowed their pace as a man approached the shop and went inside.

  ‘One of her customers?’ Ewan said softly.

  Caelan picked up the pace again. ‘Let’s see if we can find out.’

  She pushed the door open. Jolene was behind the counter, the man they’d just seen handing over some banknotes. Jolene looked up and scowled.

  ‘Fuck’s sake, what do you want now? Why don’t you just bring sleeping bags and move in?’

  Caelan approached the counter. ‘I want to talk to you.’

  Jolene’s customer looked nervously over his shoulder. ‘Look, I was here first.’

  ‘Yeah, well take the shit she’s peddling you and get out,’ Caelan told him.

  ‘Cheeky bitch.’ Jolene held her fist over the man’s open palm and his fingers closed around whatever he was buying. Caelan guessed it was spice or weed. The man turned and fled. Jolene folded her arms.

  ‘I’m trying to make a living here,’ she said. ‘Tell me what you want and then piss off.’

  ‘I want some answers.’

  ‘Yeah? I hear Google’s good for that.’

  ‘You said you didn’t know who my cousin’s housemates are?’

  Jolene assumed a blank expression. ‘What?’

  ‘You heard. Which one of them do you sell to?’

  A quick glance towards the back of the shop. ‘I don’t have to tell you anything.’

  Caelan took another couple of steps forward and stood at the side of the counter, her own arms folded and her face set. Taking in her expression, Jolene gave her a nervous glance. ‘I only need to scream and my uncle will be in here with his shotgun.’

  Caelan made a show of hesitating, though she didn’t believe it. ‘His what?’

  Jolene smirked. ‘Come on, who has a shotgun? Made you think, though, didn’t it?’ She uncrossed her arms, set her phone on the counter. ‘You going to tell me what’s going on? How’s Mulligan?’

  She almost sounded friendly, and Caelan wondered at her quick change of attitude. ‘Still alive, but who knows how long he’ll stay that way,’ she said. ‘Help me out, Jolene. I need to find Lucy, make sure she’s okay. People are getting hurt around here.’

  ‘Hurt?’ Jolene scoffed. ‘Killed, you mean.’

  ‘Then tell me what you know.’

  ‘Nothing to tell. I know someone who lives in the house next door to Lucy’s. I’m not giving you a name, because I sell to him, but he’s on the same course as one of Lucy’s housemates. He told me this bloke’s obsessed with Lucy – follows her around, watches her, probably sniffs her dirty washing too.’

  Tom Haslam, Caelan thought. ‘And?’

  ‘And what?’

  Frowning, Jolene paused. ‘You realise I’m taking a risk here? What if you go t
o the police?’

  ‘The police?’ Caelan gave the loudest snort she could muster. ‘You think I want them anywhere near me or my family?’

  ‘You told me they’re investigating what happened to Mulligan.’

  ‘Of course they are. Even the police can’t fail to take notice when a man’s lying by his front door with his head smashed in. Doesn’t mean they’ll get anywhere. Doesn’t mean they want to.’ Now Caelan leant in. ‘Tell me. I’ll keep your name out of it, your customer’s too. Help me, and I’ll leave you alone to get on with your business.’ She decided to take a chance and lowered her voice. ‘I’m going to need people to help me now I’m around. Let’s face it, Mulligan’s struggling – I mean with business, though since the attack he’s fucked every which way as far as I can see. You want to make money, and so do I. Maybe we can help each other out.’

  She waited, wondering if she’d gone too far. Jolene was close to Reuben Nash, Mulligan and Stefan Harris too. Who knew which way she would turn or where her loyalties lay.

  Jolene bit her bottom lip as she thought about it. ‘I do need money. I’m… I owe someone.’

  ‘Is it Harris?’ Caelan asked without thinking.

  Jolene scowled. ‘None of your fucking business.’

  ‘All right, I’m sorry. All I’m saying is, we don’t have to be enemies. There’s room for us all to get rich.’

  Would Jolene bite? If she did owe Harris money, she might be tempted. Who knew what he had her doing in order to pay him back?

  After a few seconds, she exhaled heavily. ‘Yeah, all right, I’ll tell you. Only because this girl’s missing, not because I want to. You really going to cut me in?’

  ‘I said so, didn’t I? Listen, I want James to recover, of course I do. But chances are he’s going to need time to get back to normal, if he ever does. This is an opportunity, and I reckon the blokes around here have run things long enough.’

  Jolene laughed. ‘Girl power now, is it?’ She stopped and stared. ‘What happened to your neck?’

  Caelan ignored that. ‘Listen, I have contacts – I used to import my own gear when I was in Scotland. I can pick that up again, no worries, and you can stop peddling from this shithole and start earning some real money.’