by D. E. White
“No problem. Uri’s coming in today as well,” he said, with a slight edge to his tone.
Uri Marquess was one of Gaia’s financial backers, and Dove was fairly sure he was one of her sister’s ex-boyfriends. He was a shady character, who operated mostly just the right side of the law, dipping into the illegal side occasionally but covering it well, with a fair amount of smooth charm. Like Colin, Uri was devoted to Gaia. If he found out who had hurt her sister before the police did, Dove was fairly sure the person would never be found. She had worked with people like Uri in her previous job. If you were in with them, you were family. If not, you were fair game.
Jamie Delaney was cleaning the windows of his office when Dove and Steve walked up the pier. Seagulls floated above on lazy wings, squawking and arguing amongst themselves, and the sea was dotted with paddleboarders, kayaks and inflatable rubber rings. The odd jet-ski flashed past, and far out in the English Channel larger ships and dredgers could be seen against the stormy skyline. The forensics teams had finished, but the pier remained shut to the public. Crime-scene tape and traffic cones stretched along the bollards between the wooden boards and the pavement.
“You said there was something you wanted to discuss down the police station?” Jamie, hazel eyes bloodshot and shadowed from lack of sleep, seemed defensive. He thumped his bucket of soapy water down, sloshing some over the side, and folded his arms as he faced them. “I thought Caz and I already made our statements. We also got told we could reopen on Friday. You lot have all finished, so we could get some customers in now. Some of us have to make a living.”
“We have uncovered some new evidence in the course of our enquiry,” Steve told him evenly. “Therefore, as I mentioned on the phone, we need you to come down to the station for interview.”
“I told you I could’ve got the bus later on,” Jamie said, emptying the soapy water fairly close to the police officers’ feet. “My solicitor can’t make it for another half hour.”
“So we’ve come to give you a lift,” Dove said cheerfully. “We were glad to hear your baby is okay now.”
His expression lightened a fraction. “It was a pretty stressful night. Caz is at home with her now, probably trying to squeeze a nap in.”
“I’ve got one of my own,” Steve offered, with a genuine smile. “No sleep since she was born, or it certainly feels like it.”
“Tell me about it. I’ll just get my keys,” Jamie said. “You want to come inside and check I’m not leaving by the back door?” But the edge was gone and his tone was easier, more jokey and good-natured. Amazing what a bit of dad bonding could do, Dove thought.
“Sure, I’d kind of like a quick peek at the control centre.” Steve, still apparently in ‘good cop’ mode, followed their suspect towards the office, while Dove watched.
The two men vanished through the doors, but Dove hesitated again, taking in the sleek glass escape rooms, glittering below the massing storm clouds. Various controls and panels dotted the sides. Something about their uniform, almost alien appearance made her shiver. Being locked in anywhere had never seemed like a great option to her. Blue-and-white tape was fluttering in the sea breeze, a stray piece of newspaper blowing around the otherwise immaculate boarding. She followed the men inside.
The main office was large and airy, fans working hard to combat the heat outside. Jamie was showing Steve the main control panel, totally at ease now, explaining how each game worked, the different levels you could play at, and other technical details.
Dove studied these for a couple of minutes. At first glance, it looked like a giant, complicated mass of cogs and switches. But closer inspection showed the main panel divided into six smaller ones, with tiny printed labels like Adventure in Space and Pathway to Heaven. The most sinister was a black switch labelled ‘Level Three’, which said Hell Speed or Die Trying.
To the right, one for each escape room, there was a bright red emergency shut-off valve, and a button marked STOP. Jamie pointed these out now. “Like I said before, we had to get the engineers in a couple of weeks ago because we had issues with the outflow pipe and valve on Room Six.” He shrugged. “It got fixed, though.”
“Is there an emergency shut-off outside as well?” Dove asked.
“Sure, just the other side of this wall. The electrics all feed through and there’s a weatherproof panel,” Jamie told her.
“The office wasn’t affected by the break-in?” Steve asked casually, still staring at the gaming panels.
“No. You can only access the gaming mechanism from in here. I guess they just wanted to get in, have some fun and get out.” He shook his head in apparent genuine sorrow. “Poor buggers. But you said you got some new evidence?”
Jamie’s wide hazel eyes were framed by very pale lashes which, combined with the bleach-blonde hair, gave him a striking appearance. His body language and tone said he knew it, Dove thought. But at least he seemed cooperative. Her mind wandered back to the emergency shut-off. From Jess’s notes she recalled the panel had been damaged. Someone had made sure the victims could not be saved.
Steve nodded. “We’ll go through it all at the station. Thanks for showing us around. It’s a neat place, isn’t it?”
Jamie smiled. “Well, we had a job convincing the planners, but yeah, we love it.” He looked towards Dove. “Do you surf?”
She was studying a small collection of paddleboards and other sports equipment, which were propped in the corner of the room. There was a rack of wetsuits, all black and mostly entry-level quality. Dove took a guess: “It’s my thing. Perfect to de-stress after a tough job. My fiancé says I’m only really happy when I’m out at sea. Is that your wetsuit? A Rip Curl Flashbomb. Nice one.”
Jamie wandered over, seemingly completely relaxed now, and ran a hand across the suit hanging on a metal dryer, stretching it out so they could see the material. “It is. No zips! I keep mine down here so I can escape off the end of the pier when I’m not working. Sometimes we have friends round and we kit them out too. Caz hasn’t been out in a while, with being pregnant and then the new baby and everything, so her stuff is all at home.”
By the time they got Jamie to the station and his solicitor had joined them, Dove felt essential groundwork had been laid. When they sat down in the interview room, Jamie seemed at ease, still trying to talk about surfing with her and asking about the MCT job description. She wondered at his mood switch down at the pier. Was it because she and Steve had made him feel comfortable, or was he super smart and playing along?
Now the recording had started, he appeared a little nervous, and apologised. “I feel like you’re arresting me or something,” he said, still smiling but looking quickly at his solicitor as if asking for the man’s reassurance.
The solicitor was swift to offer what was required, and jumped straight in. “This is routine questioning, Jamie, as I told you, nothing to worry about.”
Steve went carefully over Jamie’s statement, before he started to trip him up over a couple of blatant lies. “You said you called your girlfriend, Caz, to tell her you were on your way home before you locked up at eleven?”
“Yes.” Jamie’s voice was steady, and his hands neatly clasped in front of him.
The sharp, bony face still sported a pleasant expression, Dove thought, but how much of his character was he showing? If he had committed the murder, he was pretty cool about it. It was like watching an actor reading unfamiliar lines. Something felt way out of kilter.
Steve pushed the phone records over to him and highlighted the time issue, before moving swiftly on to the street cam. “There is no sign of you making your way home, but ten minutes after that call, we see a woman who we believe to be Caz Liffey leave your house carrying what appears to be your baby. She features again here.” Steve placed the second photograph in front of Jamie and his solicitor. “But she never makes it past the pier to the next street cam on Coast Road, so she must, by process of elimination, have gone on to the pier.”
Jamie still see
med calm as he looked at the evidence in front of him. “I walked down the wooden steps to the beach after I locked up, and I think I called Caz there.” Cool eyes met Dove’s. “She said the baby wasn’t sleeping. She thought maybe it was colic or something, so I told her to bring her down and we’d walk along the beach for a bit. Caz came down to the pier and hit the beach the same route I used.”
“Wouldn’t it have been easier for her to walk straight across the promenade and down on to the beach via the sloping walkways, rather than go down the steep flight of steps near the pier?” Dove queried.
“I suppose it would have.” He frowned as though thinking hard. “But she’s been really exhausted and emotional since the birth. The midwife said she was suffering from postnatal depression as well and she’s been prescribed some medication for it. I guess, that night, she just wasn’t thinking straight.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Jamie took a sip of water and smiled at Steve and Dove, repeating his initial question as if to show them he hadn’t been caught out at all. “Now, where’s this new evidence you said you had?”
“Moving on, then,” Steve said equably. “I assume you know you have a historical connection with one of the victims, Ellis Bravery?”
Jamie’s jaw clenched now and he looked at his solicitor, who peered over his half-moon glasses. “My client is aware Ellis Bravery used to be a neighbour of his parents, yes. It is a distressing subject for him, so unless these questions are entirely relevant . . .”
“Which they are,” Dove assured him. “Mr Bravery was also questioned in relation to the attack on your sister, Mickey Delaney, wasn’t he?”
Jamie’s shoulders sagged now, and he bit his lip. “I . . . I was shocked when I heard, because you know . . . well, you must know what happened to Mickey and how she is now.”
“This isn’t relevant to the current line of questioning,” the solicitor said, as Jamie slumped forward, chin dropping into his cupped hand. “Do you want to take a break, Jamie?”
Jamie shook his head. “No, I’m good. It’s just when anyone mentions Mickey . . . It isn’t something you get over, what happened.”
“Jamie, can I ask you again, what happened on the night of July twenty-fifth?” Steve said quietly.
Jamie folded his arms, expression wary and lips pursed. Dove could almost hear his brain ticking over now. His shoulders were tense. Was it the mention of his sister, or of Ellis Bravery, that had caused the sudden change?
His solicitor sat quietly, pen poised, but his eyes darted from his client to the police officers.
“Jamie?” Steve repeated the question quietly, and Dove could sense the tension in the room ratcheting up a notch.
“No comment. I don’t have anything to add to my original statement,” Jamie said firmly, sitting back and wrapping his arms tightly around his chest.
The solicitor cleared his throat and thoughtfully scratched a spot on his chin. “I may need a few moments alone with my client.”
“Of course. We appreciate your client’s cooperation,” Dove said smoothly. “But you must see we have to follow up on all our leads.” She tapped the photographs on the table in front of them. “We are just trying to establish a timeline and from these photographs Jamie clearly wasn’t where he said he was in his initial statement.”
While Jamie conferred with his solicitor, Steve and Dove headed for the coffee machine.
“What do you think?” Steve asked, rummaging in his pockets for loose change. He keyed in his selection and dropped a few coins in the slot, then thumped the buttons on the snack machine. It only ever responded to treatment that stopped just short of violence. A packet of salted peanuts and a Dairy Milk chocolate bar tumbled down into the drawer with a clang.
“I think he’s lying about the whole thing, and he’s just wondering how to play it.”
“He’s been pretty cool until now. If he is responsible for the murders, Caz might be in on it too,” Dove said. “Her statement says she never left home that night, and here she is walking around at past midnight with the baby.”
“If she doesn’t actually know, perhaps she suspects what he did and is terrified we’ll find out,” Steve mused, checking his watch. “We’d better get back.”
Dove scrolled quickly through her messages as they walked down the stairs. She had a voicemail from her niece, Delta, which she decided to leave until after the interview. The girl would have texted if it was urgent.
* * *
Back in the interview room, it was evident Jamie had taken control of himself. He was slightly paler than he had been, but sitting back at the table with his fingers clasped in front of him, he said, “I would like to change my statement.”
“Great. Tell us what really happened that night.” Steve tapped a pen on the table, his gaze never leaving Jamie’s.
“It’s tough, paying back the business loans. The fight with the planners took a lot of our savings, and although we are fully booked most days, it’s still hard. I’ve got a credit card that needs paying off and . . .” He glanced at Dove and Steve, hands spread. “Caz doesn’t know we are in quite so much debt. I wanted to keep it hidden, what with the baby and everything. I didn’t want her to worry . . .”
“Go on. You need extra cash,” Dove said.
“Last month this bloke stopped by, said he was on this Fantasy Play site and . . . I looked and it seemed like a thing for swingers but nothing illegal. The man offered cash if I would let him and his friends use one of the rooms occasionally, like once every couple of months.” Jamie sighed. “It seemed like a cash-in-hand answer to our money problems.”
“Who was this man?”
“Oscar Wilding. Red hair, softly spoken. Tall, skinny bloke. Not what I would expect for, well, this kind of thing. He looked more like some kind of retired schoolteacher. Crazy name too, right?” Jamie frowned. “Anyway, he seemed a bit odd but nice enough, so I said yes. He came with two men and a woman last month after midnight. I let them in and left them for an hour to do whatever.”
“Do you have any contact details for Oscar or any of the people he used the room with?” Steve asked.
“No. He just turns up sometimes, books in and gives me the cash before they . . . um . . . He always said it was before they ‘play’, and I think he could tell it freaked me out a bit. He liked that. The whole thing makes me feel a bit sick, but if they want to pay for it, you know . . .” His voice trailed off, and he glanced at his solicitor again.
“The glass on the beach side of Room Six is tinted,” Dove said, remembering from Jess’s notes that this was the only room where the glass was.
“I put those stick-on sheets up last month.” Jamie looked at her. “The Fantasy Play guy paid £1,500 for an hour. He kept asking about the view from the beach and I thought he was worried about being seen, but turns out that was what he wanted.” Jamie rolled his eyes in evident distaste. “That was the last thing I wanted, of course, so I added the stick-on sheets. Oscar never mentioned it, so I guess he didn’t notice.”
“Okay, so moving on, you have this cash-in-hand business on the side. What happened on the twenty-fifth?” Steve said.
Jamie shrugged. “Oscar showed up as planned, and he had Ellis Bravery and the two women with him. Of course it was a shock to see Bravery . . . I can’t even begin to describe how I felt, but I would never have killed him.” He relaxed a little, shoulders sagging. “It brought it all back, and all I could think of was Mickey lying in hospital.”
“Did you speak to Ellis?” Steve asked.
“Yes, I had to, but only to greet him as I left to go back into the office. He . . .” Jamie paused, as though considering his choice of words. “He didn’t seem to recognise me, or maybe he did but he hid it well. I used to be this lanky ginger kid and, well, I guess I look different now.”
Again the little note of something, Dove thought. Arrogance? Self-assurance?
Jamie smiled at both officers, genuine pain in his face, palms upturned. “I’m sur
e you can imagine how I felt, seeing him.”
“And you are sure there wasn’t any kind of conversation between the two of you? It must have been tough knowing he was paying to use your business for sex,” Dove suggested, glancing down at her notes. He did look very different to how he’d been described — muscular, filled out, the hair and eyebrows dyed, arms filled with leather bracelets, studs in his ears and nose. An actor filling a role perhaps. But lots of people changed their appearance, especially during those formative years. Would Jamie really have let the man he believed attacked his sister walk past without even a comment?
Jamie ignored this, and continued, “It’s not illegal to rent your business out after hours.”
“I’m sure you declared all of your extra income.” Dove nodded at him, smiling encouragingly.
Jamie fidgeted. “Probably. I might not have filled in all the paperwork yet.”
“Paperwork and illegal earnings are most definitely the least of your worries at the moment. So you let them in, took the money, went back into the office to babysit them for an hour. You called your girlfriend while you were there,” Steve stated, looking at the photographs and documents in front of them.
“So? Of course I called her!” A flash of anger or fear, and Jamie pushed his chair back, half standing, shouting at them. “The man I believe nearly killed my sister was having sex less than fifty yards from me.”
“Sit down please, Jamie,” the solicitor said.
“You said Ellis didn’t seem to recognise you. That must have hurt,” Dove added, keen to push on, now they had accessed some kind of emotion.
Jamie slumped back down, hands busy now, fiddling with the studs in his ears, tapping his knee. “Okay, you know I called Caz and told her Ellis Bravery was here. She knew how stressed out I would be, so she picked up Lila and came straight down. We stayed in the office until one and then I went and let them out. Caz and I locked up and went home. We walked along the beach to opposite Miles Road. Lila was crying, and we were so freaked by bloody Ellis Bravery. Then we went home via the cut-through straight into our street,” Jamie explained.
