by M. L Rose
Johnson gripped his head. When he looked up, his face was pained, and Arla almost felt sorry for him. If only he wasn’t being such a…
“I told you that because you’re a good cop, DCI Baker. But good cops also listen to their bosses. You don’t know the meaning of the word listen!”
There was silence for a while. Deakins and Johnson exchanged a meaningful glance at each other.
Deakins said, “Under the circumstances, we have to take some action, DCI Baker.” He paused, looking at a piece of paper on the table. Arla could hear her own breathing. A sense of dread was growing inside her like a tumour. She could hear a clock tick the passing seconds, the sound suddenly loud in her ears.
Eventually Deakins looked up. “You are hereby removed as SIO for this case. Now wait!” He put a hand up as Arla began to protest.
“Believe me, I have thought of harsher measures. But you and your team have done a lot for this case already. That mitigates in your favour. Hence, you are not suspended.”
“But sir, I am close to finishing this case. Two of our best suspects are downstairs. One is charged already. By tomorrow we can charge Luke and start a prosecution.” Arla could feel the blood roaring in her ears. Her mouth was bone dry.
Surely they can’t do this. Not now.
Johnson looked at her, mouth set in a grim line. “The person stepping in will be Inspector Beauregard.”
Arla felt a sledgehammer fall on her chest from high above. Air left her lungs in a rush. She stared at Johnson.
“What?”
CHAPTER 59
No one answered Arla. Harry broke the ensuing silence. “With all due respect sir, Justin Beauregard knows nothing about this case. Handing him the reins would be going backwards.”
Arla was still shaking her head, trying to control her surging pulse. She turned to look at Ken Nixon, who seemed to squirm under her glare.
“Well,” she demanded of Nixon. “Do you agree with this?”
Nixon shrugged. “This is an internal matter, DCI Baker. I can’t possibly comment.”
“Then why are you here?” Arla shot back. “If it wasn’t for you, this investigation would probably be over by now, and I would still have my job.”
“Leave him alone,” Johnson warned, raising his voice.
Arla seethed. She was losing control. She knew it, but she was helpless to stop it. Harry was leaning towards her, any further and he would drop from his chair. She ignored him. A vein popped and cracked inside her retina, distorting her vision.
She turned on Johnson. “This is about protecting James Fraser, isn’t it? This whole set up. Well guess what? In the end, it was me,” she pointed at her chest with a finger, “Me who protected him. And Harry. And now you have the gall to…”
“Shut up Arla!” Johnson bellowed, rising to his feet. His head almost seemed to touch the ceiling. The walls shook with his thunderous voice. “Shut your mouth before you get kicked out of your job.”
She didn't know what she was doing. It was like an out of body experience, like she was watching herself from across the room. In slow motion, she stood up as well. She raised an arm to point at Johnson, but Harry was suddenly in front of her. He grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her lightly.
Her eyes shuddered and the room swam in front of her. Harry was telling her something and suddenly she was tired, just dog tired, a lethargy creeping through her bones, claiming her limbs. Harry pushed her gently back on her seat. She was aware of sitting down, and her head sank in her hands.
She remained like that, gripping her forehead with both hands, eyes shut. Slowly, the sounds returned. The clock ticking. Her own breath, whispering out of an open mouth.
After a while, Arla raised her head and blinked. The light was suddenly harsh, strobing into her eyes. Johnson was still standing, his imposing height making him the first thing she saw. He was breathing heavily, staring at her.
Arla swallowed. “I’m sorry, sir.” She couldn't look at him. Instead she glanced at Harry, who had a concerned look on his face.
He mouthed silently. Are you OK?
She closed her eyes and nodded in agreement.
Johnson sat down, the chair creaking loudly. Everyone was aware a line had been breached, and no one wanted to see what lay beyond. Arla certainly didn’t.
Deakins spoke in his controlled voice. “We shall choose to ignore what just happened, DCI Baker. Consider yourself lucky you’re not in a disciplinary meeting right now. A meeting that would strip you of your rank and suspend you. Do you understand?”
Arla nodded. A heaviness had settled in her heart, weighing her down.
Johnson growled, “Speak.”
She had to swallow several times before she could. “Yes, sir.”
“Good,” Deakins said. “With immediate effect, DI Beauregard will take control of the case. You will take orders from him. I hope there won’t be any friction.”
Arla couldn't believe her ears. “No sir,” she said tonelessly.
“Good. You are dismissed.”
CHAPTER 60
Arla decided to take the elevator again. Harry embraced her and she sunk into his arms, surrendering to his warmth. They said nothing. She was aware of Harry kissing the top of her head and that simple act, for some unknown reason, brought sudden tears to her eyes. She wiped them off angrily. She pushed him back and he looked at her with a mild question in his eyes. Then he rubbed her shoulders and smiled.
“Take it easy.”
She sighed, wishing the dead black weight inside her would exhale through her breath. It didn’t.
“Thanks for what you did up there,” she said. The elevator doors opened, they got out and turned into a corner off the main corridor.
Harry’s eyes were searching. “I know this is frustrating. But look at the bigger picture. Is the case almost cracked? Yes it is. Does everyone know you did all the hard work? Yes they do. Let Justin have his two minutes of glory. Then this case is over and you start again.”
She nodded, blowing her cheeks out. Good old Harry. “Rarely, you do talk sense.”
His jaw dropped and he clutched his chest. “How could you say that to me?”
She shook her head at the puppy dog look in his eyes. “Should be an actor, Harry. Missed your lot in life.”
Together, they strode into the office. It was like turning off a switch. Everyone stopped what they were doing. In the calm before the storm, a widely grinning DI Beauregard strode up to Arla.
“I’ll be taking over the Longworth case,” he said. He looked immensely pleased with himself. It made Arla nauseous.
“Yes, I heard.”
“And my new role is acting DCI.”
Arla frowned. “What?”
Beauregard couldn't stop smiling. “It’s what the boss ordered. To help me take control of the investigation.”
Arla went to say something but stopped. Harry was right. Let this idiot have his two minutes of glory.
“Whatever,” she said between clenched teeth.
“I’m just about to start a meeting in the Incident Room. Care to join us?” he said. Rita, Rob and Lisa rose from their desks and approached them. Behind Beauregard’s back Lisa rolled her eyes and grimaced. Rob looked grim.
“Oh, here you are. Right then let’s go.” Beauregard breezed past Arla and Harry.
“You don’t have to come,” Harry whispered.
“No. I want to.” She replied, a determination rising inside her. She lifted her chin up. She still had her warrant card. She could still investigate and arrest.
Harry shrugged. “I’m still part of the team. I have to go.”
“I know. And without you, I doubt this case will be solved. So let’s go.”
The Incident Room was filling up, but it was oddly quiet. The normal hubbub was gone. Arla caught the eyes of Andy Jackson, Darren and the other officers when she walked in. She could see from their faces that they knew. She sat down in the front row.
Harry stood next to Beaur
egard, his face dark and stormy. Beauregard clapped his hands.
“OK, I’m the new acting DCI as you might have heard and in charge of this case. Inspector Mehta, why don’t you give us a rundown of recent events?”
Harry did, staring over everyone’s heads. When he was done, Beauregard asked questions of Lisa and Rita. There wasn’t any new information.
Arla glanced at her watch. It was almost four pm. She realised suddenly she was ravenous. And shattered.
Beauregard said, “OK. I will interrogate Luke Longworth and DI Mehta will accompany me.” His eyes fell on Arla and he gave her a shit eating grin. Arla ignored him.
“We can meet at six pm before we break for the day,” Beauregard said. He didn't ask anyone for opinions like Arla did, and she noted no one volunteered. The normal buzz was gone. Everyone got up stiffly and walked out. Arla was the last to leave. She went up to Harry. Lisa and Rob were summoned by Beauregard to do some chores.
“The hammer we got from Luke’s house. Do SOCO have it?” she asked.
Harry picked up the phone on his desk. He spoke briefly, then hung up.
“What?” Arla said when she saw the expression on his face.
“They found old blood on the hammer. It’s David Longworth’s DNA. And it has Luke’s fingerprints. They just managed to take them now. Negative on IDENT1, but it does match the prints on the hammer.”
Arla sat down next to him. “Right.”
“Open and shut case now. Murder weapon found in suspect’s house, containing victim’s DNA.”
“Wait,” Arla massaged her forehead. Her stomach was growling, but she had more pressing things on her mind.
“If Luke was the killer, why would he leave the murder weapon in such plain sight? It’s like it was waiting to be found. Wouldn't he at least have hidden it?”
Harry nodded. He pulled up a chair and crossed his long legs on it. “That’s what I was thinking.”
“And MI5, who’ve been bugging him for days, they didn't find it?”
“They might not have looked, guv.”
Arla was frowning. Her previous convictions suddenly had a storm raging through them.
“And Luke used the same phone several times. He texted Cherie that evening to meet up, and then again this morning from South Kensington. He must’ve known we were tracing him.”
“True. It’s like he wanted to be found.”
“Exactly.”
Harry stretched his arms upwards. His shoulders clicked. “He could still be the murderer guv. Maybe he wants the publicity. You know what these freaks can be like.”
Arla’s brain was whirring, a million clicks speeding through her synapses. “Remember it wasn’t Luke’s phone that sent Simpson the photo of David.”
Harry said, “But Luke had got in touch with Simpson several times the week of the murder, and before. From the same number he used now.” He turned to look at her, and she could see the glimmer in his eyes.
Arla held his eyes, suddenly excited. “With Luke, it’s too neat. Too cut and dry. It’s like someone is pointing us there.”
Harry sat up straighter. “What are you saying?”
“The killer might be someone else. All this time we’ve been looking in the wrong place.”
CHAPTER 61
A figure strode past them, then stopped. It was Beauregard, and he addressed Harry loudly. “Are you coming?”
Harry gazed at him for a few seconds without saying anything. Then he rose, stretching slowly, making Beauregard wait. Arla tried not to smile. Harry could be an infuriating big oaf when he wanted to.
“See you soon,” Harry said. He hitched his trousers up, then walked towards the office doors, completely ignoring Beauregard. With an oath, the man followed Harry.
Arla grinned behind his back. She rose and went to Lisa’s desk. The sergeant’s face lit up when she saw Arla.
Arla pointed at her office door at the end of the open plan space, then waved at Rita and Rob. All nodded. Arla went to her office, and she had scarcely sat down at her desk when all three entered without knocking. Rob shut the door, then locked it.
Lisa said, “Guv, we’re so sorry. How could they do this to you?”
“Don’t worry.” She gestured at them to sit down. “Do you know if James Fraser is still waiting?”
“No,” Rob said. “His lawyer arrived. He gave a confidential statement, then left.”
“OK. I want to see it. I also want to speak to Simpson again. From dealing with Luke financially, to being in contact with him, he’s lied to us all this time. Can anyone trace these women who brought the cases against him?”
Lisa said, “Oh yes, guv. I know you said you wanted to go and see one of them. I managed to track one down. She’s an actress actually and she wants to speak to you.”
“Excellent. What’s her name?”
“Tangye Gale. I can call her now and set something up this evening.”
“Do that. She will have the dirt on Simpson. Whether I believe her or not is another matter, but it will open this case up.”
Lisa smiled at her. “And I keep this a secret from Beauregard, right?”
Arla faltered. She had to stay on the right track here. “No. If he asks tell him. I don’t want him reporting back to Johnson that I’m running my own show here. But if he doesn’t…”
“Got it.” Lisa left the room to make the call.
Arla asked Rita, “Did we get back the coroner’s report on Laura Douglas? David Longworth’s ex-wife.”
“Yes. I emailed it to you.”
Arla was thinking. She was missing something here, and she didn't like it. Laura had been James Fraser’s lover, and the mother of their child, Luke. She shook her head. No wonder Luke was so messed up. She knew Laura was a big part of this. Her death was sinister, there was no doubt about it. Arla didn't buy the story—Laura went out for a walk after taking twenty diazepam pills, then dropped off a cliff. Why? Did she have medical records to say she was depressed?
Again, too neat. Too perfect. Like a story someone wanted her to believe.
She could be wrong, of course. But she had got this far trusting her instincts. She couldn't ignore them now.
She asked Rita, “Can we dig up Laura Douglas’s medical notes? I also want the exact location of where she died, who found her, and where she was staying at the time of death.”
“No worries, guv,” Rita said, scribbling in her note book.
Arla looked at Rob. “I want to speak to Simpson. Before he disappears on bail. Can you get him to an interview room?”
“Sure, guv. Room three is free. Shall I get him there?”
Arla rose. “See you there in five. Make it quick.” She dropped her voice. “I want it done before Justin comes back.”
Rob grinned. “Sure thing.”
Rob was good to his word. Five minutes later, Arla was sat in the interview room opposite Simpson. His leathery cheeks were drooping lower, and dark bags hung under his eyes. He looked haggard, an old playboy well past his prime, left to rot on the rocks of life.
He sneered at Arla. “What’s this. One on one action?”
“This is not being recorded,” Arla said calmly. “I want your honest answer.”
“A copper being honest. Must be the first time.”
Arla ignored him. “Luke was James Fraser’s son. David raised him as his own, despite knowing the truth.”
From the way Simpson flinched Arla knew she had a hit a spot. She leaned forward, eyes hooked on his. “You knew that, didn’t you?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“The weapon used to murder David was found in Luke’s house.” Arla told him the facts. Simpson slumped, staring at the floor.
“Luke is going to get locked up for life, Mr. Simpson. He has no alibi, as far as I know. You financed his films, and remained in contact with him till a few days ago. That makes you an accomplice to murder.”
Simpson’s chest heaved. Arla said, “Tomorrow, the pr
osecution will be filed. This will be quick. Within a month, you and Luke will be rotting in Belmarsh, courtesy of Her Majesty.”
Simpson lifted his head, a snarl on his lips. He almost frothed at the lips. “You bitch.”
“I’m giving you one chance to come clean with me. I can help you. But not if you keep lying.”
Simpson screwed his eyes shut, like it was too much effort to keep staring. His head sunk down again.
Arla asked, “Why did Luke call you? Why did you lie about staying in touch with him?”
“Fuck off,” Simpson said.
Arla scraped her chair back and stood. “Have it your way. Goodbye Mr. Simpson.”
She turned to leave. Simpson said, “Stop.”
CHAPTER 62
Arla didn't turn around. She could see a reflection of Simpson in the glass window opposite. Rob was standing on the other side, keeping an eye on proceedings. He tapped his watch and Arla nodded.
Simpson said, “Sit down.”
Arla looked at him. His shoulders were slumped again. The fight had gone out of him.
“Luke and I were…”
Arla waited, wondering. Simpson finally said it. “We were lovers.”
She frowned. “But Cherie said you assaulted her. Oh, I forgot. According to you, she’s lying. Like those other girls. Tangye Gayle.”
Simpson raised his eyebrows, then swore under his breath. “Alright look. Between you and me, yeah?”
Arla nodded. He said, “I like it both ways, OK? Bit of this, bit of that.”
“You’re bisexual.”
Simpson nodded. “Luke and I were together the night of David’s murder. Happy now? We were at a hotel in central London. Staff can identify me. We visited there often.”
“Did you know about his films?”
“No,” Simpson said with conviction. “Believe what you want, but that is not my scene. Yes, I did some financing for him. But I did financing for a lot of directors through Blue Horizon, my offshore fund.”
