by Lloyd Otis
‘Bea, why are you so upset? I haven’t been ignoring you or anything like that.’
‘No you haven’t but you’ve been ignoring something else.’
‘Enlighten me, just what have I been ignoring?’
‘Arlo, don’t pretend like you don’t know what I’m talking about.’
‘Do you mean when we…at the team night out?’ Breck couldn’t even bring himself to say it and that was when he realised things had gone far enough. ‘I’m with someone, Bea. There has been too much flirting between us and it’s been my fault. I accept that.’
‘Too much flirting? We didn’t stop at the kiss, we nearly went all the way. This is what you want otherwise you would have put a stop to it a long time ago.’
Breck hung his head and stared at the floor. She was right. Maybe their flirtatious working relationship gave him an escape route away from his problems with Molly. The truth hurt and at that moment he became confused and unsure about what to say.
‘Give me time.’
‘You want more time?’
‘That’s what I need and I’m not saying that to be difficult.’
‘I thought it’d be easier than this.’
Beatrice guessed that she had little choice in the matter. Although she was far from happy with his request. There was a glimmer of hope on her part that he’d be honest about how he felt soon enough, and if giving him time would lead to the chance of something then she’d be happy to take the gamble under normal circumstances. Whatever they were.
‘Say something, please,’ Breck pleaded.
As he held her hands Beatrice felt the chemistry between them but a relationship needed two consenting adults to have any chance of working. The question she had to ask herself wouldn’t be easy. Did she believe Breck would endanger his relationship for her? Deep down she knew the answer and refused to play the fool.
‘Arlo, this is a waste of time so I’ve got to be professional about this. From now on we’re just colleagues and nothing else. How’s that?’
Breck failed to respond so she released herself from him and turned to leave. Then swung her head back and in that moment, she sent across all the hate she could muster. With nothing more to say she left and Breck felt disappointed with himself. The blame for everything that had happened lay at his door and somehow, he had to fix it.
Breck left the function room and made his way up to his floor.
Bashir blocked the entrance with a formidable scowl printed across his face and barked a stream of instructions to a faceless temp worker before she scurried away. His focus then shifted onto his DI.
‘I’m going to be tied up at the anti-fascist group meeting. They want to stop the march but it’s not as simple as that and it’s not in my power either.’
‘Does a decision like that need to come from higher up, sir?’
The strain showed on Bashir’s face. ‘Yes; and whether we like it or not, the march will soon be upon us. We’ll have the local press there to scrutinise everything on the day and to give it to us in the neck afterwards. Bloody nuisance. Right, while I’m gone sort out the situation we had earlier.’
‘Sir, I don’t know much about it.’
At that moment, Kearns appeared from around the corner to confess. ‘Sorry, it was my fault Alexander Troy escaped. During the mass brawl, he took his chance and made a run for it.’
Breck’s jaw dropped but Bashir’s intimidating stare forced him to close it back.
‘We’re on it,’ he said turning to Kearns. ‘Come on, let’s go.’
Both officers made their way outside while Breck found it difficult to subdue his shock, wondering how an experienced officer like Kearns could ever have let a prime suspect in an investigation slip from her grasp.
‘Pat, how did he get away from you?’ Kearns was lost for words and just offered a simple shrug of the shoulders. They opened the doors to the Allegro and got in. It wasn’t like her at all but he didn’t want to dwell on it because he knew mistakes happened. They were a part of the job. ‘Do we know where he might be?’
‘We believe he’s in the Deptford area. Last seen near Margaret McMillan Park.’
‘Good, at least that’s something. Did he hurt you?’
‘No, I’m fine. I was just careless that’s all. So much happened to distract us that he saw his opportunity then took it. After he made a run for it I thought he might have slipped down to the basement,’ Kearns recalled.
‘Ah, a great hiding place.’
‘Saw no sign of him though so I got that wrong too.’
Breck realised that Kearns was still being quite vague with the exact details of Troy’s disappearance but put it down to shock. It hadn’t escaped him that both Troys were now on the loose, which made it a lot trickier to work out the real one.
Kearns fastened her seatbelt. The screaming siren of the Allegro allowed Breck to speed out of the yard and cut through the traffic on the main road.
‘My week has already been hectic enough,’ he complained. ‘This morning when I woke, I had hoped for an easier day.’
‘Sorry to drag you into this.’
‘Hey, that’s what partners are for. Don’t worry about it.’
Margaret McMillan Park, half the size of a football pitch with grass cut to an inch high, had wooden benches that retained their varnish. A surreal ambiance filled the air and by the time Breck and Kearns exited the car they had a plan. Breck would scope the market area while Kearns would use the car to patrol the backstreets. They didn’t want a horde of flashing blue lights to force Troy underground. They wanted him to believe that the coast was clear, so he’d reveal himself.
Breck waved off his partner and dug his hands into the pockets of his coat, wading through the ribbons of chatter which floated around. The market was busy and on any other day he might have grabbed himself a bargain. A record player or an amplifier. That would all have to wait. He took his time observing anyone that looked suspicious but regardless of how promising it seemed, it always turned out to be a red herring.
This pattern continued until he saw a man propped against a wall side-on, hesitant with his movements. Breck zeroed in to watch him glance around a few times as he walked away and the detective regained the spring in his step. Travelling into the heart of Deptford market was the prime suspect, Alexander Troy.
Breck pushed on straight ahead, past a cluster of bodies and the items for sale nestled on the ground due to overloaded tables. The barking dogs and calypso music from a radio provided an orchestrated backdrop of sounds, and every second step someone stood in his way, cursing and pin-balling him around. He became an unwanted obstacle under the din of boisterous sellers.
Troy didn’t appear to have a clear idea of where to head. Once or twice he stopped and rerouted himself but Breck wasn’t confident of grabbing him in such a populated area with so many people close by. He had done that once before in another case and a bystander ended up in hospital with serious head injuries. He should have been able to shake the fear of that happening again but it proved to be difficult.
Breck watched Troy perform a 360-degree loop then walk through a litter-strewn alleyway to his right, about four yards in width, and venture out towards the main road. He dipped into a nearby newsagent, but with Troy’s wallet back at the station, Breck wondered where he had obtained money from. He wanted to make the arrest right there and then but there could be other people in the shop. Breck had no way of finding that fact out other than to walk in himself but it’d be too dangerous. He’d wait with his concealed baton and handcuffs, hoping it would be enough in this instance.
Breck pulled the radio from his pocket and contacted Kearns, then leaned against a bus stop. He stepped forward a bit and pretended to be interested in the timetable which prompted an old lady to smile at him. He returned the gesture and remembered that he hadn’t spoken to his own grandmother for a while. That was not like him. She had brought him up after his mum passed away but life had been busy of late. Breck felt the
guilt of that in an instant because he more than anyone knew that the job took people away from others all the time. His reflections ceased when he spotted Troy.
He left the newsagents but still remained cautious, though appeared to be a little more relaxed. Perhaps even believing that the coast was clear. Perfect. Kearns would arrive in any second then they’d be able to get him and put an end to this chase.
Breck expected Troy to turn right towards Brookmill Road but instead he began to head towards him, so he stared at the ground and averted his gaze. There’d be no arrest yet. Too many people around. The old lady and now a mother and her three kids. Breck stayed stationary while he passed by. Yet, when he turned to follow he stopped in his tracks. Troy had hailed a black cab and was in the process of getting in. Breck realised that he needed Kearns to arrive more than ever right now. Where was she?
A break in the traffic allowed him to step out into the main road and he could just about make out the Allegro in the distance. He waved his hands without creating a sound because the sensible option would be to see where Troy would head to. His actions brought a few curious stares his way, but when Troy’s cab moved off, Breck was close to exploding after he saw the Allegro stall then stop. He dashed towards it only to stumble in the road before he could continue his jog towards Kearns.
She saw him coming and kept turning the ignition while vehicles behind didn’t dare sound their horns at the police car. By the time Breck opened the door, the Allegro restarted after she tried the ignition again.
‘What happened Pat?’
‘Don’t know, it just cut out.’
‘The thing was serviced last week, it shouldn’t be cutting out!’
‘I don’t know what to say.’
Breck thought that it was peculiar but didn’t have time to dwell on it. He hopped in and pointed forwards. ‘Troy’s gone that way in a black cab, let’s get moving.’
Kearns switched on the siren and bolted away.
‘Why didn’t you make the arrest?’
It was a good question and Breck could have responded by asking ‘Why did you let him escape in the first place?’ After careful consideration, he thought better of it.
‘Too many people around that might have got hurt if it went wrong.’
‘I can’t see him.’
Despite their best efforts to guess the multitude of potential directions Troy’s journey might have taken, they drew a blank on his exact whereabouts. The prime suspect had escaped for a second time.
‘Have we got anything else to go on?’ Breck asked. ‘I don’t fancy going back to the station to face Bashir empty-handed.’
‘Troy’s boss, Lizzie Daniels, might know where we can find his girlfriend, which may lead to him. It’s a longshot.’
‘I’m happy to take it. Have you got her number?’
‘No but it should be at the station in one of the files.’
‘Pull the car over.’
Kearns reduced the speed and when the car stopped, Breck used the radio to get through to the SCU. Beatrice came on air, still seething with him and although she knew that Kearns was there too, it failed to prevent her from being unhelpful. After the update she had a quick look for the file containing Lizzie Daniel’s direct number but didn’t come back with any good news.
‘I can’t find it.’
Breck groaned. ‘What do you mean you can’t find it?’
‘It’s not where it should be.’
‘OK, thanks,’ he said. He ended the conversation and turned to Kearns. ‘I suppose the option of ringing directory enquiries is there for us.’
‘You should report her to Bashir. Her conduct is a joke.’
‘We all have to work together, she’s just having a bad day that’s all.’
‘I mean it, Arlo, get Beatrice sorted out. She’s a flipping DC, nothing more than that.’
‘We’ve all had off days Pat and I’ve no reason to believe she didn’t make a genuine attempt to search for the file.’
‘You’ve got a soft spot for her, haven’t you?’
Breck didn’t like those words but it was true, more than Kearns ever knew.
‘Let’s change the subject,’ he suggested.
‘I’ve got an idea, let’s go and see Lizzie in person. It’s not too far.’
Breck agreed and Kearns restarted the car without complaint because the journey to Van Bruen plc would make up for her absence earlier.
*
The Van Bruen building didn’t look as grand to Breck as it had done earlier, perhaps it was the ‘new age feeling’ thing he had been reading about. He couldn’t be sure. Meanwhile, the same receptionists from earlier were still on duty and recognised him, terrified he had brought more bad news.
‘I’m here to see Lizzie Daniels,’ he said upon reaching the desk.
‘DI Breck isn’t it?’ The younger of the two asked.
‘Yes, and this is my colleague Detective Sergeant Patricia Kearns.’
Breck chose not to sit down and Kearns followed suit. He felt that standing would shorten the wait, and he was right. After a few moments, Lizzie Daniels emerged wearing a solemn expression, looking a bit shaky. Breck made the introductions between her and Kearns then both officers followed her to Meeting Room One on the ground floor. The same room that Breck sat in during his previous visit.
Lizzie poured water from an opal glass jug into a cup. ‘Do any of you want some?’ she offered, but both officers declined. She placed the jug back in its place then sat down. It was a different Lizzie to the one he met earlier, and he had seen the look she wore on her face many times before on others – when the death of someone close had started to sink in.
‘How are you holding up?’ he asked.
‘I’ve been comforting Janet’s secretary who’s been in tears, along with a few others that worked in her team. If I’m honest, it’s becoming a nightmare.’ Lizzie took a sip of water and stared at the cup for a while as if it might hold all the answers.
‘The rumours are flying around that Alexander has got something to do with Janet’s death but it didn’t come from me or Wade.’
Breck cast his mind back to the two receptionists and believed if he arrested Lizzie Daniels right now, she too would be implicated in the murder on the strength of their loose talk.
‘I’m going to tell you something in confidence Lizzie so don’t repeat it. Alexander has escaped from our custody.’
‘What?’
‘As it stands, he’s now a fugitive. Has he tried to contact you at all?’
‘No, he hasn’t. What was he thinking, running away?’
Neither officer could provide an answer so Breck broke the silence. ‘Earlier, when I informed you and Wade of Janet’s death, you told me about a woman he was courting named Ceinwen. Do you know where we can find her, or even a close confidant, someone he might turn to?’
Lizzie bit her lip in thought. ‘I have no information on where Ceinwen could be but Troy has a friend he trusts by the name of Peter Clarke.’
‘Do you know where we can find him?’
‘Yes. We held a charity event here last year and he came along. Tried to chat me up too but had no idea I was Alexander’s boss. He slipped me his address but it was all very embarrassing.’
‘Did you throw it away?’
‘Of course, but if you want it you can have it.’
Kearns couldn’t understand how Lizzie could provide it while Breck knew what would come next. A perfect recall of Peter Clarke’s address.
EIGHT
Peter Clarke’s name rang a bell with Kearns and she wondered if he could be the same defence solicitor the CID kept an eye on a few years back. The one that wore designer suits and drove the type of flash car beyond the normal means of his salary. He also had a habit of defending the wrong types.
‘So you’re not sure if it’s the same Clarke?’
‘No, I wasn’t close to the case. All I know for sure was that he had a wife and child, a little boy. The wife ended u
p leaving him and all of a sudden, the fancy lifestyle ended. It’s almost as if she walked away with half of his cash as hush money.’
They were on their way to Greenwich and Breck sensed something hidden within Kearns that he couldn’t quite identify. A distant feeling.
‘Pat, you’ve never told me the reason why you left Sandal & Agbrigg to come down here to Cransham. That’s a big step for anyone from the North.’
‘You’re right but you haven’t told me why you moved here either so that makes us quits!’
‘I fancied a change, only that. Now it’s your turn.’ He appreciated her bullish powers of observation.
Kearns considered her words but in the end, she delivered a terse response. ‘Likewise.’
‘Really? I thought it might be more to it than that,’ Breck teased. He wasn’t convinced.
‘Sorry to disappoint.’
Breck believed that Kearns was hiding something but didn’t quite know how to prove it. Then Molly and Beatrice crossed his mind, and the conversation dried up. He had a lot to think about.
They reached the border of Greenwich and stopped at a set of traffic lights. Breck opened the glove compartment and pulled out an A-Z Street Atlas, ploughed through a couple of pages, and soon found Peter Clarke’s address. He directed Kearns the rest of the way and it took a further five minutes until she stopped the car.
They were a few feet away from Clarke’s home, a nice place on an even nicer street and Kearns hoisted the handbrake into position then exited at the same time as Breck. She resisted the chance to take the piss as he zipped up his coat to protect himself from a breeze that wasn’t even there.
‘He lives at number 36,’ Breck revealed, pointing a finger across the road. ‘Let’s go and say hello.’
*
After a multitude of knocks rattled his front door, Peter Clarke moved away from the pipes that were underneath the sink he was attempting to fix. He didn’t appreciate the intrusion and lifted himself off his knees, wondering who it could be, while wiping his wet hands across his overalls. He put down his tools and went to investigate.
