Jack had wandered off but Martin was still there.
‘Anything interesting, Boss?’
I took another couple of deep breaths then handed him the exhibit bag, I hadn’t yet used, that he opened up ready for me to drop the paper into. In my peripheral vision I saw a white suited person photographing our actions. I wiped my gloves, one hand at a time, down on my Tyvek suit, to clear any blood from them, and opened up the folded sheet. The camera continued to click.
Inside were two words.
Paul Miller
‘Who is Paul Miller?’ asked Martin.
‘Miller, I believe,’ I paused, I couldn’t quite believe this. I couldn’t understand the implications, ‘Is the name of the protected prosecution witness in the trial against Simon Talbot.’
Pasha
Corey Stanton’s return bail was for 9 a.m. Pasha was pleased she had made it so early because that way she could deal with him and then get out and help the rest of the team. She had already put the file together and had the charging decision from CPS. All she had to do was charge him and drop the charge sheet on to the file.
Energy ran through her veins this morning. She was eager and ready to go. She looked at the clock on the wall. 8.10 a.m. Typical that today of all days a job came into the office early and their team had fallen on for it and she had a prearranged appointment that couldn’t be altered. She mentally shook herself though. She was about to charge a murderer. She was closing a murder case on her own. Well, not murder, but as close as. Her first one as well. She should feel proud of herself.
She gathered the file and drove the short journey to the Bridewell custody suite where she had arranged to meet Corey Stanton. He arrived fifteen minutes early, an anxious look on his face. His eyes dark, his face pale. Pasha smiled. ‘It’s okay, Corey, this will take about ten minutes and then you can go home again.’
A silent nod was the only indication he had heard her.
Pasha pushed her way through the secure doors into the bowels of the building, and indicated he should follow. Through a narrow corridor into the main custody block, footsteps echoing in the bare confined space. Pasha noticed Corey had lost weight.
‘You’ve come alone?’
‘My dad is waiting for me outside.’
‘Okay. Good. I’m glad you’re not alone today.’
As she pushed through the final door, Pasha was surprised to find custody busier than she expected at this time in the morning. ‘We have to wait here a few minutes until a custody sergeant is free.’ She moved, to form a queue and stood behind a uniformed officer who was with a young lad who looked unfazed by his surroundings. They were having a conversation about the previous night’s football match.
There was always a strange odour that clung to the custody suite. It was a mixture of stale feet, microwaved meals, air fresheners and disinfectant. It was a smell that adhered to you for the rest of the day once you had been here.
‘So, what are your plans for the rest of the day?’ she asked as they waited.
‘Dad wants to take me for a pint later.’
‘Okay.’ She would also need a stiff drink if she had to face up to the events of Corey’s life.
Silence descended over them with the background chatter of the previous night’s game.
‘I heard Talbot croaked it,’ Corey broke the silence.
The lad in front stopped his football talk and turned. ‘Simon Talbot?’
‘Yeah, so I heard.’
‘I can’t talk about it, Corey,’ Pasha hated when people wanted to gossip about jobs they were on. High profile cases always drew interest. And that interest usually resulted in gossip that was wide of the mark. Not that she knew what the team were working on yet. She needed to finish this one first.
‘I was at Vanilla Jazz that night. I know a lot of people weren’t very happy with him,’ the lad in front said as he was moved forward towards a freed-up custody sergeant. The officer he was with shushed him.
Vanilla Jazz the nightclub. Pasha wondered what that had to do with Simon Talbot. The timing of the death, the day after he was released from prison after trial was what most people would be focused on. Had he had problems with someone in the club one night?
Corey went quiet again. He was biting his lip.
‘We’re up.’ She shuffled him up to the custody desk, provided his details then charged him. The custody sergeant printed out the charge sheet and handed a copy to Corey and one to Pasha for the file.
It was done.
Corey was now charged to court for manslaughter. A simple enough process that involved informing them they were charged with the specific offence, Act and Section and cautioning them again in case they made any last comments. But Corey’s solicitor, who was not present, had advised him not to say anything when he was charged. The time for speaking was done. That was during the interviews.
Now they were all headed to court.
‘What do I do now?’ He looked mortified.
‘Talk to your solicitor again. Turn up to magistrates’ court on the date on the charge sheet. If you don’t, you’ll be arrested and kept until the next available court and likelihood of bail will be reduced.’
‘I’ll be there,’ he promised.
Pasha showed him back out the door. He walked with a pronounced slump to his shoulders.
Now she could go to the crime scene she knew the rest of the Major Crime team were at and help. She was eager to get her teeth into a job and to be useful.
Hannah
The Range Rover was already parked outside his house, so it hadn’t been difficult to create Talbot’s home as another crime scene. Have it sealed. Taped off. Secured. No one able to get in or out. His home was a square squat two-bed house that was paved on the front with a small slatted wooden fence that ran around it. Large windows took up most of the front of the property, like empty souls they stared out into the street.
The CSIs would be here next after they had processed the street. They would swarm the area like an army of angry white ants. Focused on the task at hand.
As I had leaned into Talbot’s vehicle not long ago, I’d changed into a fresh Tyvek suit to avoid contamination from one scene to the other. Making sure all hair was tucked away inside the hood. I wanted to know what secrets were held here. Talbot was at the murder site. There was no concern that this was a secondary or rather the initial site. We weren’t about to disrupt a murder scene. But what would be here would be clues to his life before his death. What he’d done, who he had seen, maybe what he had thought in those few hours beforehand.
Had he expected his life to be cut short or was he still the arrogant gang leader we had read about the previous night. The one we had watched on the court steps the day before. The one who had said he knew he would be released and had waited with patience for it to happen. Did he know his life was to be this short or was he cut down unexpectedly?
I opened the front door and stepped over the threshold. Aaron and I were now standing in a hallway that led to what looked to be the kitchen. There was a door to our left and the stairs on our right. Aaron indicated to the floor. In front of us on the carpet was a dark stain. Large, spread out.
We stood in silence and observed the space for a minute. Respected what it was we were in front of. This was where Ken Blake’s blood was spilled. This was where he fell that day. Where he was killed. In cold blood with no weapons on him but his asp and CS canister. Which, in comparison to a gun, were not weapons at all.
And now, here we were investigating the killing of the man who had been charged with the murder of PC Ken Blake. People would say he deserved it. People would say to leave well alone, someone had done us a service.
People.
Cops.
They’d say that to me. To us. To my team. We were in for a rough ride investigating this.
‘Do you think the team can do this?’ I asked.
‘What’s that?’ Aaron asked, as he pulled he eyes away from the stain on the floor. It
was mesmerising.
‘Investigate Talbot’s death?’
‘Of course they can. It’s what we do.’ His gaze was back on the dark patch.
‘I don’t mean, can they actually investigate, do they know how to investigate. I mean, can they do it with impartiality, do you think they are emotionally able to chase Talbot’s killer?’
He did look at me now. ‘You’ve asked the wrong person haven’t you? I’d say yes all day long. I don’t see why this is any different. Okay, I do see that Talbot killed a cop so the team would not like him and that’s what you’re saying, but for me, it’s a murder we’re investigating and I’d get on with it as any other. But I can’t speak for other people. We can’t do it at the best of times. I can’t and you know better than to ask me that.’
I did.
‘What I will say is this,’ he continued and I was grateful because I needed an analytical assessment right now. ‘They worked after Sally’s murder so they can work this case. They didn’t know Blake, they weren’t friends with him. Yes, he’s a cop and no one is allowed to kill the protectors.’ He sighed. He hated all the television type crap as he called it. The stuff the public lapped up. The brothers in arms, thin blue line. For him this was a job. ‘But, they’re not personally affected so I don’t see any reason why they couldn’t work this case the same way they work any other. And if they did then I’d have a few words to say about it as I’m sure you would.’
I smiled at him. ‘Thanks, Aaron.’ I hoped he was right. ‘Shall we?’
‘We should.’
I looked to my left, the living room. ‘Start in there?’ I was putting off stepping over the mark of death.
Aaron’s response was to straighten his tie and to walk through the door into the room beyond.
I was surprised how orderly Talbot’s home was. Maybe that was because he hadn’t been here for so long as he’d been locked up on remand and maybe his mum had come along and tidied up for him while he’d been away. I should ask her, or get the FLO – the family liaison officer – I would assign, to ask. To see if that was the case or if Simon was a tidy person by nature.
There were two overstuffed sofas in the room, up against adjacent walls. A huge curved television in the corner of the room bore down on you. Talbot either enjoyed TV or he wanted the best of the equipment he owned. I knew these curved televisions were a pretty penny to buy and I also knew Talbot was not registered with the HMRC as in any paid employment.
It didn’t appear that there was any item out of place. Though I wouldn’t know if there was. There were no drawers within the room, which we could search. We rustled our way out and towards the kitchen.
The blood-stained carpet stretched out in front of us like an abyss we couldn’t cross. I sighed. Aaron looked to me. I wondered if he felt the tension and anxiety I felt about the stain or if he recognised and respected my feelings so waited. I inclined my head. It was the easy way out. To allow Aaron to take the first step. I should have been ashamed of myself but I was grateful to him when he did and I followed.
There was a mug in the sink. It had the dregs of a coffee in the bottom. There was post stacked at the side of the microwave. I flicked through it. Normal everyday post, bills, utilities and junk mail. I opened the drawer under the microwave. More bits of paper; takeaway leaflets, mostly. A tape measure, screwdriver. The incidentals of a person’s life. What did I expect? Piles of drugs stashed around his house no doubt.
Upstairs was more of the same. Neat and tidy.
Clean.
This didn’t appear to be the home of someone who was worried about his future, about his safety. It looked, to all intents and purposes, to be an average home. This home refused to tell us its secrets. Not like the homes of the dealers who used their own products. This was someone who was organised and precise. You could see how this person could run an organisation that involved the control of multiple persons, control of products and customers. The person that lived in this house was efficient and meticulous.
In the double bedroom. His room. On the set of drawers was a photograph laid face up. It was tatty and worn. I picked it up. A young woman with a small child, maybe three, four, five years old. I turned it over. Written in black ink were the words; So you don’t forget what we look like.
Hannah
Karen Talbot was on the sofa in the living room surrounded by people. Some I recognised, others I didn’t know. She wore black trousers and a plain grey jumper, with well-worn slippers on her feet. Her hair was scraped back and tied in a hair elastic forming a short ponytail. Not a trace of make-up on her face.
Her home was immaculate. Only the best was good enough and she had good taste. Understated.
I’d met her a few times in the course of my service, being the mother of Simon and Nathan Talbot, she had turned up to collect them when they had made bail and also when she attended court hearings. She was always a well-dressed and well-turned out woman. Today she was a shadow of the woman I knew. A woman with an army of people to build a wall of protection around her. A wall of support and a buffer to the harsh reality of what she had to face. Women milled about in the kitchen, men in the hall and both men and women in the living room with her. The men I recognised as being a part of the Talbot-run gang. Their not so subtle looks told me all I needed to know. They were there to support but more importantly, they were there to protect.
I wondered if she had expected this day to arrive at some point, with the business her boys decided to set themselves up in, or if she had pushed her head in the sand and led herself to believe they were invincible, only able to dish out the violence and never there to receive it.
I introduced myself and watched her shake. The coffee in the mug she held threatened to spill over the rim and onto the thick-pile carpet. The woman at the side of her took it out of her hands and moved away which gave me space to sit. Aaron stayed where he was, standing in the middle of the room. This wasn’t his forte.
I offered my condolences.
‘What good are your condolences, DI Robbins?’ asked the man to the left of her; Nathan Talbot, Simon’s younger brother. ‘What good are condolences?’ he asked again. ‘They won’t bring him back will they? Where were you when he needed you?’
‘Hush, Nathan, let her talk,’ Karen chided. And for a tough guy he did as his mum told him. He stopped talking. Went quiet and listened as I spoke.
‘I want to reassure you that we are investigating Simon’s murder as thoroughly as we investigate any other murder.’
She nodded.
Nathan grunted. Karen shot him a warning look.
‘And with that in mind,’ I continued, ‘ I wondered if there is anything you can tell me about the last couple of days or if Simon may have been worried about someone particular?’
She shook her head. ‘He was thrilled to have walked out of court. We all were. This was the last thing I expected.’ A tear slid down her face. ‘I thought we were on the path to normality.’
I wondered what that looked like for a family like this. To her, their mum.
‘To spending some time together,’ she continued as if she had sensed my internal question. ‘To doing what families do.’
‘What about rivals, has anyone made any more noise than usual about trying to step up, take over, since Simon had been on trial?’ As I asked this I also looked towards Nathan. He stood, pushed his hands in his pockets and pulled his shoulders back.
‘They never told me about any of that, DI Robbins. My sons liked to believe I thought they were good boys. They wouldn’t tell me if they had problems.’
I kept my eyes on Nathan who was now pacing around in front of us.
‘Don’t fucking look at me like that. You can’t come in and make wild accusations with no proof.’
‘Nathan, sit down. I know you’re angry about this. We’re all angry. Don’t you get that?’
He had the sense to look sheepish. His mood was swinging wildly.
‘She wants to find out who kil
led your brother. Do you not want to know?’
‘I’ll find out, Ma.’ A hard edge laced his words. There was a fury deep inside him.
‘I want the police to find out, Nathan. I want this to be done the proper way, not how you want to do it. There’s been enough bloodshed for Heaven’s sake. I don’t want to lose you as well.’ Her hands continued to shake in her lap and tears streamed freely now. Nathan grunted but took his mother’s hand as he crouched in front of her.
Then he looked at me and said, ‘You can have a go, see if you can find out who did it, but if you can’t sort it, then we sort it out our way.’
I didn’t answer. Any response would serve to wind the situation up. I turned to Aaron who looked as though he was about to speak and I shook my head. We needed to keep Karen and Nathan onside. It was a difficult situation and there was no need to make it more difficult by going head to head with the Talbots.
‘When did you last see, Simon?’ I asked of Karen.
She wiped at her face. ‘That would have been early yesterday evening. We went out for a meal to celebrate. He said he had known he would be out and told me he kept his promises and promised me it would all be okay now.’ Her voice cracked as she talked of his last promise.
‘Did he say how he knew it would all work out for him?’ asked Aaron. A question and an answer I was interested in.
Nathan glared at him. Karen watched him as though she’d only just realised he was there and if she stared long and hard enough the answer would materialise from Aaron himself. Then she shook her head. ‘No. No he didn’t. He was just very happy to be home, with his family and was sure that this was the outcome that would happen. I never asked for details.’
The DI Hannah Robbins Series: Books 1 - 3 (Boxset) (Detective Hannah Robbins Crime Series) Page 48
