by Ed James
‘It’s okay.’ Fenchurch stepped back, hands up. ‘We just need to speak to her. She might be able to help us identify a person of interest on the case.’
‘She’s not in.’
Getting nowhere with her.
Fenchurch clocked the carpeted stairs behind her. ‘Kay, keep her here.’ He set off up the stairs.
‘You can’t do this.’
‘He can.’
Fenchurch hauled himself up the last few steps. Four doors, but only one marked ‘Kitty Kat’s Lair’. He knocked on the door. ‘Katerina?’
‘You can’t just do this!’ Jocasta was still downstairs but it sounded like she was right next to him. ‘Get out!’
Fenchurch opened the door.
No sign of her. Just band posters. Justin Bieber over by the window, giving way to Rammstein and Marilyn Manson by the bed. Sweet dreams, indeed.
Fenchurch felt his shoulders deflate. Where the hell is she? He opened her mirrored wardrobes. Just clothes, no teenagers hiding out. On the desk a laptop was sleeping. Fenchurch prodded the keyboard. It unlocked, then flashed back to the login screen.
In that flash, though, Fenchurch caught a still image of Gayle Fisher straddling Elliot Lynch. The same footage Steve was watching.
So Katerina had the video after all. Did she give it to Liam? Or did she record it?
Fenchurch stuffed the laptop in an evidence bag and charged back downstairs.
‘You need to get out!’ Jocasta slapped at his arms until Reed restrained her. ‘What the hell is that?’
Fenchurch showed the laptop. ‘I’m taking this into evidence.’
‘You can’t do that!’
‘I can.’ Fenchurch grabbed Jocasta’s shoulders and held her still. ‘Now, I need to speak to your daughter. Where is she?’
‘She’s at work!’
Chapter Forty-Five
Fenchurch had his phone to his ear, listening to Liam’s voicemail as he walked towards the Bennaceur. ‘Still nothing, Kay.’ His phone rang, right next to his ear. He checked it. Unknown caller. At least it wasn’t about Baby Al. ‘Hello?’
‘Inspector, it’s Dr Mulkalwar. Are you okay to talk?’
‘Not really.’ Fenchurch stared back at Reed. ‘What’s up?’
‘I wanted to let you know that Mr Fisher definitely had at least one Blockchain pill. We’re flushing his system just now.’
‘Will he live?’
‘Unfortunately, we don’t know how many he took. It’s at least one, possibly as many as three or four.’ Mulkalwar paused. ‘To be perfectly frank, it’s touch and go. More of touch than go.’
Whatever that means.
‘Okay, let me know if anything else comes up.’ Fenchurch killed the call and put his phone away.
Steve tried to kill himself by taking Blockchain, watching the illicit video of Gayle and Elliot.
He turned up at Liam’s flat, demanding to see it. Then Liam goes missing.
Katerina had the video, so she probably gave it to Liam.
So why go missing? And who recorded it?
‘Guv?’ Reed was holding the hotel door open. ‘You okay?’
‘I’m fine.’ Fenchurch entered the building.
Sutekh Bennaceur was sleeping at the reception desk, snoring and snorting. He woke up and gasped. ‘Hey, you!’ Then got up, shaking his fists at them. ‘Open that goddamn floor!’
‘Sir, we’re looking for Katerina Raptis.’
‘Uh.’
‘Take it you’re her replacement?’
‘I’m here because I don’t trust my bloody brother.’ Sutekh sat down again, snarling. ‘Turning this place into a brothel. Goddamn crook. Him and that goddamn football team. Waste of time and money. Always focused on that. I swear I’ll—’
‘Is Katerina here?’
‘Goddamn—’ Sutekh’s head nodded forward, snoring.
‘Jesus.’ Fenchurch went over and shook his shoulder. ‘Sir?’
‘Goddamn animals!’ Sutekh raised both fists. ‘Goddamn stinking animals rutting in my hotel! Rutting!’
‘Sir, are you—’
‘Get that floor open!’ Sutekh was on his feet now, glaring at Fenchurch. ‘We’re losing money every hour!’ He collapsed back into his seat. ‘Every goddamn hour! The goddamn hotel’s open again but nobody’s staying! Everyone cancelled! This is like a goddamn ghost town!’
‘I’m still thinking about it.’ Fenchurch rapped the reception desk. ‘Now, do you know where she is?’
‘Who?’
‘Kat—’
Sutekh was asleep again.
‘Come on, Kay. She’s obviously not here.’
Sutekh grabbed him. ‘She’s in the kitchen, getting me a goddamn coffee. Keep falling asleep.’
Katerina plunged the cafetière, humming a tune. ‘Porcelain goddess . . .’ That bloody song again . . . The kitchen stank of bitter coffee, strong enough to keep Sutekh awake for weeks. She turned and jumped.
Fenchurch went over to her. ‘You okay?’
‘Just didn’t see you there.’
‘Need a word with you.’ Fenchurch pulled up a seat and motioned for her to sit. She remained standing. ‘You seen Liam?’
‘I haven’t seen him since . . .’ Katerina poured out some coffee. ‘I don’t know, yesterday? It’s been a weird week.’
‘Hasn’t it just. Thing is, I need to speak to him. Liam has a copy of the video of Elliot and Gayle Fisher having sex.’
Katerina tipped some milk into the mug. ‘What?’
‘He got it from you, didn’t he?’
Katerina set the coffee down and shook her hand like she’d burnt her fingers. ‘No, he didn’t.’
‘Sure about that? You’re his source, aren’t you? I’ve got your laptop in evidence.’
Her eyes widened.
‘The video of Gayle Fisher on top of Elliot Lynch is on there.’
Katerina collapsed into the chair.
‘Were you behind the camera? Did you just copy it?’
‘What?’
‘This is going to take forever if I need to keep repeating myself.’
‘Liam got the video from someone else.’
‘Who?’
She shook her head, but couldn’t look at him.
‘Come on. You know, don’t you?’ Fenchurch stepped forward. ‘We can do this here or in an interview room. Your choice.’
She didn’t say anything.
‘Katerina, someone gave that video to Steve Fisher. We found him in his brother’s flat trying to kill himself by taking some Blockchain.’
She stood up, waving her hands. ‘I’ve nothing to do with this, I swear.’
‘Did you give him it?’
‘No!’
‘Did Liam?’
‘I don’t know. We’re not joined at the hip!’ She sat down again and swallowed hard. ‘Oliver.’
‘Oliver Muscat-Smith?’
‘He recorded it.’ Katerina brushed her hair out of her eyes. ‘Liam must’ve got it from him on Friday night. I saw them talking in the bar here.’
Fenchurch opened the Obs Suite door and popped his head in. Empty. He let Reed go first.
On the screen, Uzma was interviewing Oliver Muscat-Smith, with some young DC sitting in, someone Fenchurch didn’t recognise. ‘—are Elliot’s accomplice, correct?’
‘I’m nobody’s accomplice.’
‘You helped Elliot gain access to Gayle Fisher’s room, where he murdered her.’
‘Bloody hell, Kay. They should show this to prisoners, it’s worse than waterboarding.’ Fenchurch shifted Mulholland’s stuff off the chair on to the table. ‘Why is it that when I actually want to speak to that witch, there’s no bloody sign of her?’
‘I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.’ Mulholland walked through the door, blowing on a coffee. ‘You were sent home.’
‘Something came up.’
Reed picked up the laptop. ‘I’ll get this to Lisa.’
Mulholland waited for the door to click. ‘Something came
up? Simon, you were explicitly told to leave.’
‘Steve Fisher—’
‘I heard. Doesn’t explain why you’re here.’
‘Because Liam’s gone missing and I need to speak to him.’ Fenchurch pointed at Oliver on the screen. ‘Our chum there gave the video to him.’
Mulholland sat in the newly liberated chair. ‘I hope you’ve got a reputable source.’
‘Katerina Raptis. She saw Oliver here talking to Liam on Friday night. Probably when the handover happened.’
‘Is she here?’
Fenchurch sighed. ‘She’s still at the hotel.’
‘I see. Why?’
‘She’s working.’
‘Simon, I know you’re going through a very difficult period just now, but this is yet more proof that you’re not fit for duty.’ Mulholland took a slug of coffee. ‘You should’ve brought her here to give a statement.’
Fenchurch almost bit his tongue. ‘My priority is finding Liam. Oliver recorded the video and passed it on to Liam. He might know where he is.’ He waved a hand at the screen. ‘Give me five minutes with him.’
Mulholland stared at the screen, thinking hard. ‘DS Ashkani is leading on this.’
‘Looks like she’s spinning her wheels. Five minutes, that’s all I need.’
‘Sorry for the late substitution.’ Fenchurch sat opposite Oliver Muscat-Smith. ‘You know Liam Sharpe, right?’
‘Who?’
‘Cut it out. You know exactly who I’m talking about. Liam Sharpe. Spill.’
Oliver crossed his legs. ‘Haven’t heard from him in a while.’
‘When was the last time?’
Oliver folded his arms now. Any more and he’d collapse in on himself. ‘Couldn’t say.’
‘I gather that Liam—’
‘No.’
Fenchurch laughed. ‘What do you mean, no?’
‘I’m not talking about him.’
‘Liam had a video of Elliot and Gayle having sex. You recorded it on your phone, didn’t you?’
‘Why would you think that?’
‘Why deny it, Oliver? Elliot didn’t record it.’
‘So? Big deal.’
‘You filmed it?’
‘Elliot asked me to.’
‘What?’
Oliver sat forward, clasping his hands on the table. Goalkeeper’s hands, huge and strong. ‘I knew Elliot from football, we’d played together since we were yea high.’ He held his hand pretty low. ‘He used to be taller than me, even though he’s younger.’ He kept his hand there, as if he was amazed that they’d both grown so much. ‘Elliot had been flirting with her at school, teasing her a bit. Then one Friday she was in the bar, so I called him up. He came down, started chatting to her. She must’ve known he was underage, but didn’t care. Pretty soon they were out of their skulls, absolutely hammered. Then she told us she had some E.’ He scratched at his neck. ‘Anyway, we went back to mine. Dad was working. Took the E, put some music on. And he banged her.’ His eyes misted over. ‘I filmed them at it. You can see everything. She’s got a great body. So fit. I mean, you could tell that underneath her clothes there was a monster waiting to get out, but seeing her in all her glory . . . Man.’
‘Why did you think it was okay to film it?’
‘Last summer we were on a club tour of Holland and Belgium. Pair of us would shag anything we could get our hands on. We had a gentleman’s agreement. Whoever got lucky would leave the door open for the other one to sneak in and get a video of him banging the bird. He’s got more videos of me than I do of him. Kind of like porn, but just for us, you know?’
‘That’s illegal, you idiot.’
Oliver raised a shoulder. ‘Like I care.’
Fenchurch stared at the recorder. One of those rare occasions when an idiot would spill the beans. He leaned on the desk, grinning. ‘We’ve got all of your electronic equipment. Phone, computer, tablet, you name it. We’ll get the evidence and we’ll prosecute you as well.’
‘Look, I didn’t—’
‘You gave the file to Liam Sharpe on Friday, didn’t you?’
‘What? Of course not. That guy’s a hipster prick.’
‘What about Katerina Raptis? Did you give her a copy?’
‘Maybe.’
‘Oliver.’
‘Yeah, yeah, keep your wig on. I showed her the video and she . . . I don’t know. She wouldn’t stop talking about it. She was obsessed by it, kept wanting to see it.’
‘You give her a copy?’
‘Maybe.’
‘Can I take that as a yes?’
‘Fine.’
‘Okay, so who was she obsessed with? Elliot or Gayle?’
‘Both. She thought it was beautiful.’ Oliver ran a tongue over his lips. ‘Doubt she’s ever been banged by anyone. Not my type, I’m afraid.’ He let out a sigh. ‘Did she tell you about that bloke Steve was with?’
‘Who?’
‘I told you. I saw Steve with his mate when I was chatting up this bird.’ Oliver held up his hands. ‘I went to the bogs to get a rubber johnny and Steve followed me in. Said hello, then went to the dump station. He wasn’t alone. This geezer came in, shut the door. And they weren’t taking coke. Believe me, I’d know. Had a big long chat.’
‘Who was it?’
‘Seen him a few times here. Thinks he’s a big shot. Think his name’s Ben something?’
Ben bloody Maxfield. What the hell was he doing?
Chapter Forty-Six
Who said crime doesn’t pay?’ Reed stopped in the street outside Maxfield’s mansion in Hampstead. At least two wings, the whole place wrapped in stucco like it’d been iced for a wedding. Lit up in limes and oranges, the deep thump of house music coming from inside. A party had spilled over the lawn.
Reed stopped by the steel gates. ‘Jesus, is that him from EastEnders?’
‘Wouldn’t know.’ Fenchurch walked up to the security team, all yellow jackets and clipboards, and held out his warrant card. ‘Need a word with Mr Maxfield.’
‘Inspector!’ Maxfield stepped over a small wall to the side, carrying a half-eaten hotdog bun and a martini. His face was flushed, his hair slicked back. ‘You’re not here to jump out of my birthday cake, are you?’
‘Many happy returns.’ Fenchurch caught a waft of cooking meat. ‘Need a word.’
‘Well, I’m very, very busy.’
‘So I see.’ Fenchurch looked around. Caught someone from an old TV sitcom. ‘Trouble is, I’m not in a good mood and I’d hate to take it out on you.’
‘Well, I’d love it. A scuffle with a minor celebrity like you would put me on the front page.’
‘A little birdie tells me that you were in the Hotel Bennaceur on Friday night.’
Maxfield snarled at Fenchurch. ‘And they say policemen are all thick.’
‘You told us that you were on a client’s yacht.’
‘Ah, now.’ Maxfield rested his glass on the wall. ‘I checked with my PA and it transpires that I need to update my statement. I’ll pop in tomorrow morning, if that’s okay? Might be nearer lunchtime.’
‘Let’s do it now.’
‘Inspector, I’d hate to leave my guests waiting.’ Maxfield picked up the glass and slurped some martini. ‘I can only apologise. I was so, so tired when we spoke. Didn’t know what day it was. I’ve flown over five thousand miles in the last month. It’s hard to keep a track of where you are at any moment.’
‘Just tell me what you were doing at the hotel.’
‘I visited Gayle at the hotel at about eight thirty, and she seemed fine. Shaken up, but fine. Asking about the future, about what I could do for her.’
‘Did you meet anyone else there?’
‘No.’
‘Not, say, Steve Fisher?’
‘Well, now you mention it, I had a very, very brief chat with him. It’s no crime. I was interested in repping both sides of the couple. So, so many synergies. You can really clean up in the tabloid arena if you control both sides of the sto
ry. All sides, if I get a chance.’
‘It wasn’t an accidental meeting, was it?’
‘No, a mutual friend arranged it.’ Maxfield flicked away the last dregs of martini on to his lawn. ‘Our mutual friend, in fact. Liam Sharpe.’
‘Any idea where Liam is?’
‘When I say mutual friend, I mean that I’ve texted and emailed him. Very useful chap to place a story with. But he’s not invited, in case you’re wondering. Not one of my closest thousand friends, who I really, really must be getting back to.’
Fenchurch blocked his path. ‘Did Liam share any videos with you?’
‘Ah, the explosive sex tape, eh?’ Maxfield took a bite of hotdog. ‘I told you before, you cloth-eared gimp, that I would’ve loved a copy of it. Could’ve raised Gayle’s profile.’
‘But you’ve seen it.’
Maxfield gave a flash of his eyebrows. ‘An associate has it.’
Fenchurch grabbed Maxfield’s wrist. ‘Did you share it with Steve Fisher?’
‘No, but I know who did.’
Fenchurch tightened his grip. ‘Who?’
‘Liam Sharpe.’ Maxfield shook off Fenchurch. ‘He called me up, said Steve Fisher was at his flat, desperate for the tape. I’ve got plans for Steve. I want him to get over his wife’s death. So I advised yes.’
‘Steve tried to kill himself because of that, you idiot.’
Fenchurch got in the car and stared back at Maxfield’s house. ‘So Liam’s in league with him. Turns out you never know someone, right?’
‘What does he get out of it?’
‘What does anyone get out of anything? Maxfield owes him one. He’s got Steve Fisher on his books thanks to Liam. That would’ve looked good on Friday. Now, it’s a poisoned chalice. There’ll be a few stories in the paper about us abusing his human rights or something. But that’s about it.’
Fenchurch’s phone rang. He checked the display, heart thumping. A mobile number. ‘Yeah?’
‘It’s Cally. Have you found him?’
‘We’re getting closer, but still not got him.’
She paused. ‘I’ve got Liam’s laptop here. I could look through his emails?’
‘Search for Ben Maxfield.’
Some typing sounds. ‘Nothing.’
Maxfield was too smart for that.
