‘Okay, good. We do want you. We need to check and we need to speak to your inspector, but after that I look forward to the time you can join us. We’ll figure all this out and get a resolution for you and for Ken.’
Hannah
I tacked an A4 piece of paper on the outside door of the incident room. On it were the words Meeting in progress. Do not enter. Martin looked at me sideways when he spotted me putting it up. No matter how many briefings we had this was not an action we had usually ever taken. I pulled the doors behind me and gathered the team together.
A working incident room is a noisy place and it took a minute or so for it to quiet down. Once I had the attention of everyone in there I explained the unique problem we faced. The way the investigation may go and that they were to be prepared for it and that we were to look in that direction, no matter how uncomfortable it made them.
‘You can’t be serious, Boss.’ Ross looked perplexed by the information.
‘As a heart attack.’
‘Aren’t PSD supposed to do that kind of thing?’ he complained.
‘They’ve been informed. But at this point, there is no evidence that a cop is involved. This is only a possibility. One we have to consider.’ I looked pointedly at him. ‘To do our jobs properly.’
He tucked his bottom lip in between his teeth and stopped complaining.
‘Look,’ I continued, ‘I know this isn’t comfortable, that it doesn’t sit well with you, but it’s not the whole investigation, merely a thread. A line of inquiry we have to consider. And on that note, I don’t think it needs to be said, but I shall anyway, under no circumstances does any of this leave this office. If I find out it has been leaked then I will take disciplinary action.
The room was the quietest I had ever heard it.
‘So, where do you want us to start?’ asked Martin.
‘Well, the young PC who was with Ken Blake when he was killed has volunteered to work this case with us. Thinks he can be helpful and I tend to agree with him. But, bearing in mind what I’ve just said, I want him checked out first; his alibi for this morning. If you can do that, Martin, that would be helpful. Aaron has details.’
‘On it.’
‘All information you input into our systems, make sure you lock it tight as restricted for our team only at this point. I don’t want a uniform PC to do an intel check and accidentally find out we have a live investigation that they are a part of. Neither do I want them to run back to Ken’s family or head here to give us a piece of their minds for even contemplating that Ken’s family could do such an act.’
Ross muttered under his breath but I didn’t catch it. Cops didn’t like Professional Standards because they investigated cops, and now I had asked them to do the same, I understood it wouldn’t sit well with some of them. I let it slide. This once.
‘Okay, with that out of the way, we have the rather urgent matter of attempting to locate Miller.’
Pasha
Pasha looked at the people in the incident room. DI Robbins had delivered the information and left. To allow it to sink in or because she had somewhere to be? Pasha didn’t know. But a quietness filled the space. No one spoke. Faces moved as they looked from one person to another in an attempt to gauge the reaction. She was the last person to join this group; she wouldn’t be the first person to comment on their new tasking.
A finger made its way up to her mouth and she found herself tearing away at the skin at the side of her nail. Skin she had attempted to leave alone. She phtt-ed the tiny piece she’d pulled off, out into the room, and sat on her hand to prevent further attacks.
‘So…’ Ross broke first. If you’d have asked her to put money on who would speak out first she would have put hers down on Ross. She liked him. She liked them all. But she liked the way Ross said what he thought. You knew where you stood with him. And though that hadn’t always proved to be a positive experience for her, she preferred to know and then she could deal with it.
Martin leaned back in his chair, hands clasped behind his head. A pose Pasha now realised was a default resting position for him. ‘Yeeees,’ he drawled it out while an eyebrow lifted.
Ross rubbed the tip of his nose with the palm of his hand. Rubbed again. ‘What do you think?’
Martin laughed. It rumbled deep in his stomach and the lines around his eyes crinkled making his face shine. ‘You started this conversation off, you give us something first, Ross.’
‘Pasha?’ Ross looked at her.
‘Ross,’ Martin scolded. Then winked at Pasha who was glad of the intervention.
‘Okay. Okay.’ He rubbed at his face this time. ‘I didn’t join Professional Standards, I joined Major Crime; it doesn’t sit right with me. I’m after the criminals not the cops.’
Martin leaned back further in his chair. Pasha wondered if the chair would give out on him, waited for it to, but it held.
‘The boss didn’t ask us to actively investigate a police officer for a specific offence, Ross,’ Martin clarified. ‘She said that in doing our daily duty in this investigation, it may be that police officers’ names come up because of what Talbot was charged with and at trial for. And because of that, she wants our complete discretion so it is a secure investigation. There is a difference.’
Pasha thought he made sense. She thought the DI had made sense when she had briefed them on it anyway.
‘But, come on, cops?’ Ross still wouldn’t have it.
‘You don’t think there can be corrupt cops, Ross?’ Pasha asked him.
He opened his mouth to answer. She could practically see his mind tick over and then he closed it again. Then some more thought before speech. ‘I didn’t say you can’t get corrupt cops. Of course you can. I just don’t feel comfortable being the one to investigate them.’
The breath was whipped out of Pasha’s chest and she sucked in air quickly to replace it. The faintest trace that something was amiss.
‘Ross, don’t you think it’s our duty to permanently police each other?’ she asked.
A frown creased his forehead. Lowering the floppy part of his hair over his eyes.
‘For instance, if you saw or heard a colleague do something they shouldn’t, wouldn’t you act on it?’
The creases deepened. Martin’s hands came down from behind his head and he leaned forward in his seat now.
‘Like what?’ asked Ross.
A sigh escaped Pasha’s lips. ‘Well, what about being a bit too energetic during an arrest?’
‘Can you really judge someone else if you’re in the thick of it yourself?’ he answered.
‘There are times when it’s not a brawl, but someone could simply use too much force and you could witness it, but for the sake of argument, let’s look at another example.’ She raised her eyes as her brain ticked through potential scenarios. ‘What about if you smell alcohol on a colleague when they’re in work and know it’s from the night before, would you speak to a supervisor?’
Martin looked at Ross. Ross scrubbed at his face. ‘Why am I getting the third degree?’ he moaned.
‘Because it’s about being held to a higher standard, Ross, and we all have to accept that and we have to police it in ourselves and in each other.’
‘Okay, okay, I get your point. This is a part of the investigation that needs to be done, so I need to shut up and deal with it. Point well made, Pasha.’ He lifted his palms face out towards her and laughed.
Martin leaned back in his chair.
Ross had managed to see Pasha’s point without actually answering her question.
Hannah
Chloe Bird lived on Arkwright Walk in the Meadows. A quiet red brick street that the council had made an effort to beautify, with trees planted into the pavement at regular intervals. Chloe was a pretty girl. Not quite what I expected for the girlfriend of one of the Talbot brothers. She appeared to be self-contained, in her own home, which was clean and looked after, she was dressed well and not in the least provocative, which, maybe stereotyping T
albot, I kind of expected her to have a little more flesh on show, but she was in jeans and a plain blue T-shirt. Her hair pulled back in a ponytail. Her face devoid of make-up. She was already aware of Talbot’s death by the time Aaron and I arrived on her doorstep, I imagined, from one of the Talbots or one of their gang, and she ushered us into the living room with a calm hospitality.
‘I believe you have a son, Ms Bird, can I ask where he is right now?’ I didn’t want him to walk into a difficult and emotional conversation.
‘He’s still at school, and you can call me Chloe.’
Now I looked closer, I could see why there was no make-up on her face, it was slightly puffy, her eyes had a pinkish tinge to them. She’d spent some time crying. ‘I’m sorry for your loss, Chloe.’ And I was. Watching the pain of others was one of the worst parts of my job. Her choice in life partner may not have been the smartest, but she was still hurting. No one deserved to lose a loved one through violence. If believed the person who had died through the violence deserved that mode of death or not, the people left behind were the ones who were left to pick up the pieces. Whether she should have got involved with Simon Talbot in the first place would also be hotly debated if I asked the question in the office, but luckily for me, I wouldn’t or I’d walk away with a banging headache.
Chloe sat on the edge of the sofa, hands clasped tight between her knees.
‘We need to know a few things today, Chloe.’
‘Okay.’ Her voice was quiet.
‘It may feel as though you are betraying him, but he’s gone now and he can’t be hurt. What we can do is identify and arrest who did this. We need to know what Simon talked about when he was here last night. And we then need to know what time he left this morning.’
Chloe jumped up from her seat. Walked to the window.
‘Let me make you a drink,’ offered Aaron and he walked out of the room towards the kitchen at the back of the house.
‘He was pleased to have walked out of court as you can imagine,’ she said.
I waited for her to go on. She paced around the room. Stalked to the window, wrapped her arms around herself and stared outside for what felt like an eternity. I left her to contemplate how much she was prepared to tell us. If I gave her the space she could tell us all we needed without the need for me to push her. I didn’t want to go there and ruin any chance we had of getting information from this young woman.
Aaron walked back into the room, steaming mug in his hand. He looked at me. I shook my head. His entrance prompted Chloe to turn. Brought her back into the here and now. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said as she came back to the sofa.
‘It’s fine. Tell us what you know.’
She resumed her position of hands clamped between her knees. Aaron placed the mug on the small side table on her left and handed me the other mug. I cradled it in my hands. He’d taken to adding a drop of cold water so that it was possible to drink it rather than holding onto a drink you weren’t able to drink, when at the home of bereaved relatives. It gave you space when you needed it if you took a drink, either for them to gather themselves or to cry a little if that was what they needed. Or in this case, to bring themselves to talk about difficult subjects. Maybe a topic that felt like a betrayal.
‘Whatever it is, it can only help Simon now, not hurt him. He’s beyond being hurt, by us or anyone else,’ I spoke again.
Chloe rocked forward a little, then back again. ‘He was jubilant last night. I’ve never seen him on such a high.’
‘It’s to be expected, isn’t it?’ asked Aaron, who had now sat beside me.
‘This was different.’ She closed her eyes. ‘It was more than simple joy at his release.’ Her eyes opened. She looked at us. ‘Though I know that is more than enough to be ecstatic about.’ She rubbed her face. ‘Oh God. This is awful. I don’t mean he should be… anyone should be ecstatic about getting away with the murder of a police officer. I’m so sorry.’ Tears filled her eyes. She stood again, paced back to the window, looked out and came back, sat, and scrubbed at her face again. Silent tears streaked their way down her cheeks.
‘It’s okay. You weren’t there. You didn’t pull the trigger. Can I ask you,’ I paused, this would be difficult for her to answer, I didn’t know if she would, ‘did Simon ever admit to you that he did kill PC Blake?’ I needed to know the truth. It was all wrapped up together, of that I was sure.
Chloe shook her head. ‘He didn’t tell me either way. When I visited him in prison he told me the less I knew the safer it would be for me.’ More tears fell. ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘Don’t be,’ I soothed. I was disappointed. But Talbot had been smart. He’d kept his circle as small as possible. ‘So, let’s go back to last night. What did he say?’
‘It wasn’t what he said, so much. It was his mood. He was euphoric. Though he did say he knew this would happen and he’d told me not to worry.’
‘He didn’t look concerned at all? Didn’t say he had any problems with anyone?’
‘Not last night. He was, well I couldn’t stop him drinking or laughing and I had to tell him to keep his voice down several times because of Jacob.’
‘Your son?’
‘Yes. He was in bed.’
I drank my tea. Thought for a moment. This didn’t fit. ‘What about problems when he was inside? Did he tell you about that at any point?’
Chloe shook her head. Wiped the drying tears from her face. ‘No. He was relaxed whenever I visited him. Which wasn’t often. I hated the place. The way you’re treated when you go in. As though you’re the criminal. I know it has to be done and it’s because they’re the criminal, but I found it uncomfortable. And I knew he had his brother and mum, so I didn’t feel too bad.’
‘Okay. I have one more question. What time did he leave this morning?’
‘He left at 5 a.m. Jacob is an early riser.’
We now had a frame of reference for Simon Talbot’s murder.
Hannah
It was late when I walked out of the office. It had been a long day. I was tired and ready to relax at home and sink into a deep glass of red wine. As last out of the incident room I flicked off the lights, plunging the space into darkness. It was a complete contrast to how it had been an hour earlier. Now it was peaceful and silent. Before, there had been activity and noise.
My body complained but I took the stairs down to the ground floor rather than the lift. If I gave up before I made it to my apartment it was possible someone would find me on the car park surface fast asleep when they came in for the night shift – which, looking at my watch would be in about twenty minutes.
It was mild outside but it felt damp, as though a heavy rainfall might be expected through the night. Like the inside of the station, the car park was a different place in the evening, when all the day staff had left. You fought for room when you arrived in a morning, but at night, you practically had the place to yourself.
I climbed in to my car and pushed the heat up, to take the damp feel off, and turned the radio down. I wasn’t in the mood for music, I wanted quiet and space now.
Swiping out of the gates I headed home and thought about the day behind me. A day I hadn’t expected when I woke.
Traffic was light, but I noticed one vehicle was a little close behind me. I slowed and gave it an opportunity to change lanes and overtake me but it stuck like glue and stayed directly behind me. A feeling of disquiet crawled up my spine.
On Lower Parliament Street as I passed the Motorpoint Arena the vehicle flicked its headlights onto full beam regardless of the other traffic on the road. I flinched as the blaze of light hit my eyes. Car horns blared. My visibility of the road was cut as the glare bounced through the rear-view mirror. I swore, then pushed the mirror down. Who was this idiot and what were they playing at?
No sooner had I asked the question than the main beam was retracted back to driving lights. But the vehicle stayed behind me. No more than a few feet between us at any time. I slowed again, to give them a chanc
e to move past me, but the driver stayed behind. This was aggressive driving. This driver wanted my attention.
And he had it.
The closer I got to home the more concerned I became that this driver was following me. I didn’t want to lead anyone to where I lived.
What should I do? I didn’t have any kit with me. We couldn’t take our CS spray away from the station. My asp was in my desk drawer.
On Canal Street I pulled over into one of the parking bays. Whether it was a good idea or not was up for debate, but I had few options. Yes, I could lead this driver on a merry dance right back to the police station, but I had a feeling they would peel off and catch me up again as I tried to get back home. No, I had to confront them and find out what they wanted.
As I pulled on the handbrake the vehicle pulled up behind me.
They definitely wanted to talk to me. I could think of easier ways to have gone about it. I pulled my phone from my bag, tapped in the control room number but didn’t push the dial icon, it was ready to go though, should it be needed. Then I pushed the phone into my pocket, unclipped myself from the seat belt and climbed out to face the other driver.
What the hell was I doing? This was hardly a good place to do this. Not at this time of the day.
There were still cars on the road. I wasn’t alone out here. This was not an isolated place to stop or even an isolated place to have got my attention, but whether any of these cars would stop to help out was another question.
As I closed the door I saw for the first time the make of vehicle that had been following me. I’d been unable to make it out due to the headlights in my mirror. A dark blue Range Rover. Very similar to the one owned by Simon Talbot.
A coincidence?
‘Detective Inspector Robbins,’ he said through his open driver’s window.
Nathan Talbot leaned on the doorframe on the Range Rover, elbow out the window, his face shadowed by the distance from the street light. His voice was quiet, but it held a sense of, I wasn’t quite sure…
The DI Hannah Robbins Series: Books 1 - 3 (Boxset) (Detective Hannah Robbins Crime Series) Page 51
