by MA Comley
That grabbed the woman’s attention. Styles glanced up at Lorne, her eyes wide with alarm. “Such as?”
“Where do I begin? Zac Murray, Carl Ward, and Trevor Murray—those are the names that cropped up, along with yours. So you’ll forgive me if I don’t believe you when you say you’ve never heard of them.”
“I corrected myself and told you I had heard of Carl Ward, but I’ve never met him. And I’ve definitely never heard of the other names.”
“You see, that’s what I find hard to believe. From the second I stepped into the Kellys’ home after dealing with the murder scene at the Dobbs’ house, I had an inkling we were looking at a team. Thanks to Kim, who put all the final pieces together for me, I can now start arresting people and charging them with murder.”
Styles stood up and knocked over her chair, pointing at Lorne, she said, “I had nothing to do with any murders, and I’m not going down for them, either.” She prodded Tyler in the arm and added, “Say something. Tell her I had nothing to do with this—not the murders, anyway.”
Lorne held back a smile when Tyler spoke. “Sit down, Ms. Styles. You’re making a damn fool of yourself. Just tell the Inspector what she wants to know, and we can all get out of here.”
Defeated, Styles picked her chair up and slumped into it. “I know nothing about the murders,” she repeated, angrily. “I refuse to be held accountable for any of that.”
Tilting her head, Lorne asked calmly, “So what was your part?”
“I don’t really know how I got mixed up in this. Honestly, I don’t.”
“I’ll be the judge of that. Now, tell me what you know.”
Moistening her pink lipstick-coloured lips, she began, “Kim told me her boyfriend was planning to rob some footballers’ homes. She’s friends with the Kellys and wanted to know who else was worth robbing. They knew that most of my clients nowadays are wealthy footballers. I gave them a list, but I felt bad about doing it. Kim said I owed her for putting the work my way in the first place.”
“Go on. Was there anyone else involved?”
Styles remained quiet for a while, and Lorne could tell she was torn about whether to answer the question or not. She pushed the woman again for an answer. “It’ll be to your benefit to tell us, Ms. Styles.”
The woman blew out a long breath and looked at all the people around the table in turn before she said, “Stuart Russell.”
Lorne tossed the name around in her mind for a few seconds, but it didn’t ring any bells. “Stuart Russell?”
Styles sat forward in her chair, resting her elbows on the desk. She supported her head in her hands.
With reluctance, Styles repeated the name. “Stuart Russell. He helped me set up my business. A silent partner, if you like.”
“Ah, the business you’re not qualified to run, you mean.” The woman looked stunned by the news. “We do our research thoroughly, Ms. Styles. Any reason you gave up your course at college?”
Shrugging, she sat back in her chair again. “I got bored. I met this Stuart a couple of years ago. He said I had talent. He offered to back me if I set up a company. He even put some clients my way.”
Lorne saw the woman cringe when the final words were out. “What aren’t you telling me?”
Styles sighed heavily. “Stuart Russell is an agent.”
Perplexed, Lorne asked, “An agent? For what?” Then it dawned on her where she’d heard the name before.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
The interview came to an abrupt halt. After instructing Katy to get down Styles’ statement, Lorne bolted into the incident room. She approached the evidence board and shook her head in disgust. She knew the information had been in front of her all along, but other things had steered her away from the one person she should have questioned right from the start.
AJ walked up and stood beside her. “Everything all right, ma’am?”
She thumped her clenched fist against her thigh and faced him. “No, it’s not.” Stepping closer to the board, she tapped her finger on the name that she knew would haunt her for years to come. “Stuart Russell. Why the heck haven’t we questioned him yet?”
“Are you saying that he’s got something to do with this?” AJ asked, looking shocked.
“Okay, enough farting around. Get his address, home and office. We’ll take a ride out there to see what he has to say.”
While the sergeant sorted out the information, Lorne rang DCI Roberts.
After filling him in on the details, she said downheartedly, “Sorry, sir. I messed up.”
“Not sure how you work that one out, Inspector. Do you want me to organise some form of backup?”
“I don’t think that will be necessary. Let’s see what he has to say first. I’m so bloody annoyed with myself.”
“It’s understandable after all you’ve been through.”
“Please don’t try and make excuses for me. I should have spotted—”
“You can make amends now. It’s not too late, Lorne, and definitely not worth beating yourself up about. Let me know how it goes.” With that, he hung up.
Lorne was left feeling grateful that he hadn’t shouted at her and chastised her incompetence. If her commanding officer had been anyone else, she knew that would have been the case. Enough self-pity. Crack on, and bring him in.
• • •
The personal assistant was out of her chair like a shot when Lorne and AJ swept past her and into Russell’s office.
The man in his early forties studied Lorne with what appeared to be amusement. “Did I miss this appointment in my diary, Lizzie?” he asked the outraged blonde holding onto the door.
“No, sir. They barged in before I could stop them.”
Lorne flashed her warrant card at the secretary, then Russell. The secretary gawped at her ID, but Russell seemed to be unperturbed, which made Lorne even more suspicious of the man sitting confidently behind his oversized desk.
“Got time to squeeze in a little chat with the police in your busy schedule, have you?”
His smile broadened, and his eyes sparkled mischievously. “Never been one to not help out the police when I can. Mind if I ask you what this is about?”
Lorne noticed the way his pen picked up speed as he wound it through his fingers. She opened her mouth to speak, but he raised a hand to stop her. “Can I get you any refreshments?”
“No, thanks. We won’t be long,” Lorne responded curtly.
“That’ll be all, Lizzie,” he said, dismissing the furious secretary. He pointed at the chairs in front of them, but Lorne and AJ remained standing.
Lorne said, “Over the last couple of days, we’ve had some pretty interesting conversations.”
He gave a derisory laugh. “I’m sure you have, in your line of work.”
There was no fooling Lorne. She noticed the nervous twitch at the side of his mouth. “Care to tell me how you know Danielle Styles?”
“Why?” he retorted a little too sharply.
“Just answer the question, please.”
“The young lady has talent.” When Lorne cocked an interested eyebrow, he clarified, “As an interior designer, I meant.”
“How long have you known each other?”
The smile had slipped from his tanned face, “I guess a couple of years. Is she in any trouble?”
Ignoring his question, she asked, “Is it right that you’re a silent partner in her business?”
“That’s right.” Another short, curt reply.
“Can I ask why?”
His brow furrowed. “I’m not sure what you’re getting at, Inspector.”
“Why did you decide to invest in her company?”
“It was a business opportunity that I couldn’t pass up. Is there a law now against investing money that I haven’t heard about?” he responded.
Lorne held his gaze for several seconds and soon concluded that he was a very cagey character. “Are you sleeping with her, too?”
At first, he appeared taken a
back by the question, but he recovered quickly to admit, “We might have been bedfellows at one time. Do you mind getting to the point of this intrusion, Inspector?”
“The point is that we’re from the Serious Crime Squad. We’re investigating a couple of robberies and believe that you and your lady friend have something to do with the crimes.”
His temper momentarily flared up but soon died down again. “In what way?” he asked, calmly.
Lorne moved to the chair and sat down. AJ followed her. “Come now. Don’t tell me you have no idea what I’m talking about.” Shrugging, he pulled a ‘So what?’ face. Lorne decided to play along with him for a while. “Tell me, how long have you been a football agent?”
“A couple of years.”
“And before that?” she asked.
“I had several businesses.”
“What kind of businesses exactly?”
Leaning back in his chair, he folded his arms. He obviously worked out regularly, by the way his suit pulled across his upper arms. He slightly screwed up his eyes for a brief second. “Mostly I dabbled in stocks and shares. But when the market collapsed, I had to invest my money elsewhere. Hence my partnership with Danielle.”
“I’m confused. So what experience do you need to be a football agent, then?”
“A smart brain and the gift of the gab, most of the time,” he said, laughing.
“Ah, I see. Yes, I can tell you’re a master of that.” Her words didn’t seem to offend him in the slightest. If anything, he seemed to take the mild insult as compliment. He was beginning to piss her off.
“So, perhaps you can answer me this, then. What do you do to earn your vast fee?” She surveyed the plush office to make her point. Everything was still glistening as if it was all totally brand new.
“I look after the players’ needs, mainly, and negotiate good deals on their contracts.”
Puzzled, she tilted her head and asked, “Look after their needs?”
“That’s right,” he replied, giving very little away.
Not satisfied with his response, she pushed him further. “Give me a rundown of what your day entails, will you? Just so I have it clear in my mind how important your role is.”
Lorne spotted a couple of beads of sweat forming on his brow.
“I’m not sure I care for your tone, Inspector. Are you doubting my abilities?”
“How can I doubt what I don’t know you do?” she fired back at him without pause.
He sat forward in his chair and opened his diary. “Here’s a usual day for me. This all happened on Friday of last week. Most of the morning was spent going over the various contracts I’m negotiating for some of my players who are without a club at the moment. Here’s a prime example of what I do. One of my players wants to build an extension to his property. He needs a games room, of all things. Therefore it’s my job to get quotes for him. Another player wanted a suit made for a wedding. Again, it’s down to me to sort it out for him.”
“I think I’m getting the picture now, and your fee would be?”
Russell smirked. “Generally it’s ten per cent. From time to time, that figure will vary, depending on the player or club involved.”
“So when a player needs an interior designer, of course you arrange for Ms. Styles to quote for a job, is that right?”
“That’s right. Although I don’t tend to put that kind of work out to tender. I know Danielle is the best around, so I tend to guide my players to use her services.”
“In other words it’s a win-win-win situation for you, what with you being a silent partner in the business and all.”
“If you like,” Russell said, grinning at her.
“So you’re telling me, you do everything for these players apart from wipe their arses for them, is that right?”
His grin broadened, and he nodded. “I couldn’t have put it better myself.”
One more question, and then she’d hit him where it hurt. “What happens when one of your players gets caught drunk driving or something like that?”
He kept grinning. “It’s muggins here who has to clear up the mess with your lot.”
She gave him a killer smile. “That’s what I thought. So you’ll forgive me for wondering why you haven’t felt the need to contact me over the past week.”
“Sorry, I’m not with you,” he said, looking confused.
“Let me refresh your memory. Last week, two of your players’ houses were robbed. Dave Dobbs and Les Kelly, and yet, as SIO, I’ve never once been contacted by you with regard to the investigation. Why is that?”
Panic filled his eyes, and Lorne knew she had him by the short and curlies. He picked up his diary and swept back through the week, showing her how busy he’d been. “It’s been a hell—of a fortnight,” he stammered unconvincingly.
Then Lorne played her ace card. “I put it to you that you were behind these robberies and subsequent three murders. Therefore, Mr. Russell—or is it Trevor Murray?—I’m placing you under arrest.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
AJ ran around the desk and slapped the handcuffs on Murray before he had the chance to reach for any likely weapon tucked away in his desk, while Lorne read him his rights.
“What the fuck? Are you out of your tiny little mind? Get yer fucking hands off me, pig.”
Neither of the detectives responded to his foul-mouthed tirade as AJ marched Murray past his open-mouthed secretary and placed him in the back of the car.
Lorne drove. AJ sat in the back with the suspect just in case he tried to interfere with her while she was driving. She laughed when he kicked out in frustration at the back of her seat.
They reached the station. After instructing the desk sergeant to lock Murray in a cell and to notify his ‘top’ solicitor that he was in custody, Lorne headed up the stairs to fill Roberts in.
“That’s great, and you’re sure it’s Murray?” Roberts asked, looking pleased by her accomplishment.
“I’m going to see if the pathologist can help us out there. Russell can swear till he’s blue in the face that he’s not Murray, but I’d bet a year’s wages that I’m right.”
“Can you get AJ or someone to check back to see if they have any photo ID of Murray before the supposed accident?”
“Good idea. If it’s out there, we’ll find it. He might even confess to it during questioning. Talking of which, how are you fixed? I thought you might like to sit in on the interview.”
“You’re not doubting yourself, are you?” he asked, quietly.
She grimaced. “I’m not doubting myself as such, but I’m conscious of the fact that I should’ve picked this guy up—or at least hauled him in for questioning—last week.”
“These things are easily missed, and you’ve had a lot on your mind.”
She closed her eyes and sighed. Those were the very words she didn’t want to hear. The last thing she wanted was for him to think she wasn’t up to the job. “Tony has nothing to do with this. Sean, as a friend, just help me ensure all the Ts are crossed, et cetera, please?”
He gave an understanding nod. “Got you. It’ll be like old times.”
God, she hoped not; he used to be crap at interviewing. “Just to clarify, I’m still in charge of the interview. You’ll be there to back me up, to prompt. That’s all.”
He had a glint in his eye and gave a nonchalant shrug. “But of course.”
“We’ll give his solicitor time to get here. In the meantime, I’ll go prepare some questions.”
“I have some paperwork to do anyway. Ring me when you’re ready.”
• • •
Stepping back into the incident room, she clapped to get the team’s attention. “Listen up, guys. Drop what you’re doing. We’ve got half an hour or so before I have to question Murray. I want everyone to concentrate on trying to find some kind of photo ID for Murray. I’m talking driving licence, passport, sports club membership—he looks as though he works out regularly—anything. I also want you to find out wh
at his previous career was before he became an agent, and where Russell came from. My suspicion is that he appeared a couple of years ago after Murray’s supposed disappearance. Tracy, any idea what’s happening with regard to Ward?”
The young sergeant shook her head. “No, ma’am. He’s totally disappeared.”
“Okay, you can be sure if he knows or when he finds out the two Murray brothers have been picked up, he’ll try and run. Molly, get onto the ports and issue an alert, after you see what you can find out about the IDs.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I’ll be in my office.”
Katy spoke as she passed her desk, “Do you want me to sit in on the interview with you?”
“No, that privilege is going to DCI Roberts, I’m afraid. I reckon he’s going to be a slippery shit, so I asked the boss to sit in on it.”
Katy smiled but didn’t quite cover her disappointment. “I’ll keep on top of the team, then.”
Lorne thumped her lightly on the top of the arm. “Thatta girl.”
Grabbing a coffee on the way, she settled down to sort out her interview questions. She’d just begun making notes when the phone rang. She picked it up. “DI Simpkins.”
“It’s Edwards.”
She immediately dropped her pen and gave the caller her full attention. “Is it Tony? Is he all right?”
“Don’t be alarmed. I just wanted to tell you that he’s regained consciousness and is now off the critical list.”
“Oh, thank God!”
“The medics in Basra are the dog’s bollocks…Ahem…Sorry about that,” he apologised after clearing his throat.
“No problem. I’ve heard far worse. When will he be fit enough to travel?”
“That’s really why I’m ringing. He’s coming home tomorrow. Four o’clock, he’s due to touch down at Brize Norton. He asked me to let you know. Would you like to meet him?”
Lorne paused for a second or two to summarise how she saw the next couple of days panning out regarding the case. “I’m sure that’ll be okay. It’ll be wonderful to see him.”
Awkwardly clearing his throat again, he said, “I’m sure it will. Take care.”
