Deadly Silence

by OMJ Ryan

  Phillips stared him in the eye. ‘Yes, sir.’

  Brown wagged a finger at Jones and Bovalino. ‘And the same goes for you two clowns.’

  ‘Sir,’ they both replied as Brown turned and made his way outside, shouting for Evans to follow him.

  ‘Prick,’ mumbled Phillips.

  ‘Jesus, Guv. Why do you do it?’ Jones asked in his South London drawl.

  ‘Do what?’

  ‘Wind Brown up like that? It’s not going to help you get back to DCI any quicker, is it?’

  ‘I know. He just gets to me, that’s all. Such a bloody weasel. He’s been here less than an hour and already he’s making assumptions about the victim. He’ll do anything to get the case closed and off his desk.’

  ‘True, but he is our boss. It doesn’t help any of us if you two are constantly at war.’

  ‘Okay, okay, I hear you. I’ll try to rein it in. Promise.’

  ‘Good. Thanks, Guv.’

  The three stood in silence, staring at Susan Gillespie’s body.

  Then Bovalino finally spoke. ‘You’re right though, Guv.’

  ‘About what, Bov?’

  ‘He is a prick.’

  Phillips burst out laughing. She playfully slapped Bovalino’s cheek. ‘You don’t say much, Bov. But when you do – it’s always worth hearing!’

  3

  Susan Gillespie’s brother lived just a short walk from Susan’s house. Unlike the grand Victorian family home she had inherited, Noel had bought new build. Judging by the colour of the brick and the height of the hedges surrounding the garden, it had been constructed at least twenty years ago. A black 3-series BMW sat on the drive. As they walked to the house, Phillips noted the private plate, ‘NG 58’.

  At that moment her phone rang, and she tapped Jones on the shoulder, signalling for him to wait. She stepped away to take the call, and returned to the driveway a minute later.

  ‘Everything all right, Guv?’

  ‘Yep. I just needed a quick word with Don Townsend.’

  ‘The hack Don Townsend?’

  ‘The same.’

  ‘What the bloody hell are you doing with a shark like him?’

  ‘Don’t worry – I know exactly what he’s like. As the saying goes, “keep your enemies close” and all that.’

  Jones shook his head, ‘He’s bad news, Guv. Nothing good can come from it.’

  ‘Actually, it can. That little snake has just agreed to help me with a police finance issue.’

  ‘Finance issue? Since when have you been interested in budgets?’

  ‘I happen to think funding is something all officers of Her Majesty’s police force should take an interest in.’

  Jones looked at her sideways. ‘What are you up to, Guv?’

  Phillips smiled. ‘Nothing. Merely ensuring the public know how hard their local coppers are working, day in, day out, to keep them safe.’

  She reached the front door and rattled the metal knocker.

  Noel Gillespie answered almost immediately, and as the door opened, Phillips was struck by his haunted features. From the limited intel she had, she knew Noel Gillespie was a couple of years older than Susan, but for a man in his late forties, he looked a lot older.

  ‘Mr. Gillespie?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘DI Phillips and DS Jones.’ Both flashed their credentials simultaneously. ‘May we come in?’

  ‘Of course.’ Gillespie moved back inside, and Phillips and Jones followed him through to the lounge room. ‘Can I get you some tea?’

  ‘That would be lovely,’ said Phillips. ‘Jones will give you a hand.’

  With the clatter of mugs and spoons ringing from the other room, Phillips took a moment to survey the space. Judging by the plethora of family photos adorning the walls and various surfaces, Gillespie was a family man with two teenage girls. Mercifully for them, both looked like their mother, who was surprisingly attractive considering Gillespie’s hang-dog appearance. A well-ordered bookcase in the corner of the room was partnered by a cabinet bursting with DVDs. Neither contained anything that jumped out; just a variety of popular fiction, kids’ books and mainstream movies.

  ‘You still taking sugar, Guv?’ asked Jones, re-entering the room ahead of Gillespie.

  She turned to face him. ‘Given up.’

  In truth, she had never taken sugar. She and Jones were playing out a routine they’d established long ago for home visits. While he kept the person of interest out of sight, she had a quick look around for anything untoward. The innocuous question warned her of the person of interest’s returning. So far, this time, she’d found nothing of note.

  Gillespie chose the armchair, so Phillips and Jones took a seat on the adjacent sofa. After a few polite sips of tea, Phillips carefully placed her mug on the small table to her left. Jones followed suit and pulled out his police notepad and pen.

  ‘Mr Gillespie —’

  ‘Please, call me Noel.’

  ‘Noel. Can you tell us how you came to discover your sister’s body today?’

  Gillespie took a deep breath and exhaled, steadying himself.

  ‘Take your time, Noel.’

  ‘Susan didn’t show up for work this morning, which wasn’t unusual, as she often suffered from terrible migraines and IBS. When she was particularly stressed, her attacks would come quite regularly.’

  ‘And had she had these attacks recently?’

  ‘Yes. A lot of our work comes from SMEs, and tax returns for them need to be in before the end of the month.’

  ‘SMEs?’

  ‘Sorry, Inspector, industry jargon. Small to medium enterprises. Businesses with less than two hundred and fifty employees, and a turnover ranging from twenty thousand all the way up to fifty million. Having said that, those kinds of clients are out of our league.’

  ‘I see.’

  Gillespie continued. ‘We’re pretty manic at the moment, and Susan never was good with stress’

  ‘And what did your sister do for the business?’

  ‘Office manager. Kept us all on track.’

  ‘So, if the absences were a regular occurrence, what made you check in on her this time?’

  ‘She was off ill quite a bit, but I nearly always got a text first thing to explain why. Very, very occasionally she wouldn’t text until late morning if it was a migraine. Looking at the screen would make it worse, you see. But today I hadn’t heard anything, and it was after lunch. So I rang the house phone. It’s next to her bed. Even when she was very poorly, she would always pick up. When she didn’t, I got worried and went round, and…’ Gillespie’s words tailed off.

  ‘We’re very sorry for your loss, Noel. We know this can’t be easy for you, but if we could just ask a few more questions, we can get out of here and leave you in peace. Is that ok?’

  Gillespie nodded, lifting the shaking cup to his mouth.

  ‘Did your sister have any enemies that you know of?’ asked Jones.

  ‘Susie? No way. She was such a gentle soul.’

  ‘And she didn’t owe anyone money?’

  ‘God, no. She never borrowed a penny in her life, and was totally against gambling. Said it was sinful. She wouldn’t even do the lottery.’

  ‘And what about boyfriends?’

  ‘She didn’t trust men. Not sure why, but she never had any boyfriends that I can remember.’

  Phillips shifted slightly in her seat. ‘Noel, I’m sorry, but I have to ask: did she ever pay for sex?’

  Gillespie looked shocked. ‘Susie? She was a virgin, Inspector. Devout.’

  Jones looked up from his notepad. ‘A Catholic?’

  ‘Yes. She didn’t believe in sex out of wedlock and was virtually married to the church. I used to call her “Sister Susie”; the amount of time she spent at church, she may as well have been a nun.’

  Phillips changed tack now. ‘Can you tell us what you know of her movements yesterday?’

  Gillespie drained his mug and set it down. ‘She came in early – about
eight – because she was organising a cleaning group at the church from 4 p.m. Susie being Susie, she felt guilty about leaving early; but then again, she felt guilty about pretty much everything. Forty years-plus of Catholicism can do that to you. I knew how much her work at the church meant to her and had no issue with her taking time out for it. But still, she would insist on coming in early and working through lunch to make up the hours.

  ‘Yesterday was no different. She managed to clear her desk and left the office around two. Told me she had a few errands to run, stuff to send at the post office, then the dry cleaners to pick up an order and home to change into her cleaning clothes. As far as I know, she cleaned the church and went home.’

  ‘And you didn’t speak to her after she left the office?’

  Gillespie dropped his chin to his chest before shaking his head. ‘No. I had my head in work all afternoon…’ Tears formed. ‘…maybe if I had, she’d still be alive.’

  Phillips reached out and placed a reassuring hand on his wrist. ‘Please don’t blame yourself, Noel. This wasn’t your fault.’

  ‘I can’t get rid of that image of her with the bag over her head. Who would do something like that to my little sister?’

  Phillips held his gaze. ‘That’s what we’re going to find out.’ She stood, Jones following her lead a second later. ‘If you think of anything else, no matter how insignificant, please call me. I’ll leave my card here by the phone.’ She placed a reassuring hand on Gillespie’s shoulder for a moment before heading for the front door.

  4

  Back at Ashton House Police Headquarters, Phillips sat at her desk and tried to figure out if Noel Gillespie’s grief was genuine or not. It had appeared so at the house, but something had been gnawing at her on the drive back, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Looking around the room, she wondered if the sterile workspace they now called home could be affecting her instincts. She remembered the original Greater Manchester Police HQ at Bootle Street – a grand, white stone Victorian work of art in the heart of the city. As grubby and run down as it had been at the end of its life, it had possessed a certain romance and aura; a proper old-school nick where you felt like a real copper. She had loved it from the moment she stepped inside as a uniformed police constable over fifteen years ago. By comparison, the ‘state of the art’ building that now housed the GMP – on an industrial estate in Failsworth, six miles out of Manchester – was a soulless block that could easily be mistaken for an insurance company’s HQ. Looking around the room, pausing to watch Jones and Bov hunched over their PCs writing up overdue reports, she couldn’t help but wonder if modern spaces such as these were counter-productive when it came to catching criminals.

  Leaning back in her chair to think about the case, she allowed her gaze to drift out through the window, zoning out, almost trance-like.

  Jones prodded his partner. ‘Bov, she’s got that look.’

  ‘You’re right. She’s onto something, Jonesy.’

  ‘What is it, Guv? What are you thinking?’

  Snapping back into the room, Phillips turned her attention back to the boys. ‘What are you two gabbing on about?’

  ‘You had that look on your face. You know, when you’re putting something together.’

  ‘It’s probably nothing, Jonesy, but the brother’s registration plate. Did you see it?’

  ‘Private, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Yeah, but not the type you’d pick up for five hundred quid from the DVLA. It was shorter than that, “NG 58”. I don’t know that much about them, but I’m sure you’d be looking at thousands for a plate like that. The car must only be worth twenty-five K and looked pretty basic, so why not spend the extra cash on the next model up? Doesn’t that strike you as a bit extravagant – particularly for an accountant?’

  Bov turned his computer monitor to face Phillips. ‘Just looking here, Guv, you’re right. There’s a similar style plate for sale, just shy of ten grand.’

  ‘Exactly. Maybe it’s nothing, but you know that feeling you get when something just doesn’t fit?’

  ‘Instinct, Guv. It’s what makes you such a good copper,’ said Jones.

  ‘Sadly, not in everyone’s eyes.’ She pointed to the DCI’s empty glass-walled office at the end of the room. ‘Where is Brown anyway?’

  Bov glanced at the ceiling. ‘He’s been up there at least half an hour. I’d say he’s probably elbow deep in the Super’s arsehole by now.’

  ‘You’re not kidding. He’s got his head so far up her backside, she can brush his teeth at the same time as her own,’ said Jones.

  All three laughed.

  Phillips’s face straightened first. ‘Heads up, he’s back. And he’s got company.’

  Jones and Bovalino turned to see Brown entering the squad room with a young, suited man in tow. He was mixed-race, tall and slim, with a police ID on a lanyard around his neck. Walking in front of him, Brown looked even shorter than usual.

  ‘Gandalf and the hobbit,’ Bov muttered under his breath as Brown arrived.

  ‘Right, you lot.’ Brown addressed the three. ‘This is DC Entwistle. As of today, he’ll be joining the team.’

  Phillips couldn’t hide her surprise. ‘Joining this team? In what capacity?’

  ‘As a detective. Why else would I be giving him to you?’

  ‘But I have all the detectives I need on my squad, sir.’

  ‘That’s just it, Inspector. It’s not your squad anymore, it’s mine, and Entwistle is the newest edition. He’s a criminology graduate, not to mention a gun with social media and digital technology. He’s forgotten more about computers than you lot will ever know. His ability to track victims and suspects’ digital footprints will save this department a fortune in man hours. That’s your desk over there, next to DC Bovalino.’ Brown pointed to the empty space next to the big Italian. ‘This here is DS Jones, and you’ve already met DI Phillips. I’ll leave you in their capable hands for now.’ Turning on his heels, he headed for his office.

  Entwistle offered his outstretched hand. ‘DI Phillips, it really is an honour to meet you.’

  Phillips ignored him, instead following Brown into his office and slamming the door behind her. ‘What are you playing at, Brown?’

  ‘You will address me as Detective Chief Inspector, Guv or Sir. Have you got that?’

  ‘Have it your way, sir. We don’t need fresh-meat detectives on this team, and you know it.’

  ‘Personally, I’ve never known a squad that doesn’t need more detectives, whatever their experience level.’

  ‘We run a tight ship here and we don’t need to babysit any rookies. Especially not on the Gillespie case. It’s far too important.’

  Brown appeared even more smug than normal. Placing one hand in his pocket, he inspected the fingernails on the other. ‘This news may not have filtered down to your level yet, but the Chief Super has just asked me to take on the role of diversity ambassador for the GMP. Entwistle’s appointment makes the right impression in my new role.’

  ‘You’re bringing him in because he’s black?’

  ‘Mixed-race, actually.’

  ‘Black, mixed-race, does it matter? Do you ever stop playing politics?’

  ‘This is the modern world of policing, Phillips. Battles are won in the boardroom now.’

  ‘You’re just doing this to piss me off, aren’t you?’

  Brown took a seat in the oversized black leather chair delivered just yesterday. ‘If you think I’d waste my time coming up with ways to piss you off, then you flatter yourself. Having said that, if Entwistle joining the team means you would like a transfer, then just say so and you’re gone.’

  ‘You’d like that, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘Very much indeed. I may have inherited you, but it doesn’t mean I have to keep you. I don’t like your methods and I certainly don’t buy into the “heroine” bullshit you’ve been peddling. You harboured a fugitive and got yourself shot by a psycho. There’s nothing heroic about that.’r />
  ‘I’ve paid for that mistake. You know that better than anyone.’

  ‘Yes I do, Inspector. Personally, I think you got off lightly with just the demotion. If it wasn’t for the whole thing playing out in the media, with you somehow considered a hero by the public – you’d be in a cell right now, just like Chief Constable Blake.’

  Phillips struggled to keep her disdain for Brown in check. ‘I did what was right. An innocent man came to me looking for help. What was I supposed to do? Abandon him?’

  ‘You were supposed to follow procedure. Bring him in. Not run off like some vigilante. Your actions resulted in the deaths of two people and almost got you and Michaels killed in the process. Dead bodies. Is that what you call good policing, Phillips?’

  Ready to blow, she just managed to stop herself. ‘Just because I don’t play politics doesn’t make me a bad copper. My team get results!’

  ‘Yeah? Well, you’ll get even more with Entwistle on the team, won’t you? It’s about time this squad stepped into the digital world.’

  ‘We already have.’

  ‘Really? Have you seen Bovalino using a PC?’ Brown pointed towards the team, who had obviously heard him through the glass and turned to look. ‘It’s like watching a gorilla shoving rocks around a boulder.’

  Phillips glanced to her left and caught Jones’s eye for just long enough. The look on his face told her she couldn’t win. It was time to back down.

  ‘Entwistle is the first step in the right direction for this squad. You and your two cronies will give him your full support. Do I make myself clear, Detective Inspector?’

  ‘Crystal.’

  Phillips headed for the door before Brown stopped her in her tracks. ‘Oh, and I forgot to ask: do you like what I’ve done with your old office?’ There was a wide grin across his face.

  Phillips surveyed the room briefly. ‘Yeah, it’s good to see you’ve lowered the furniture to the right height.’