by MA Comley
She disconnected and instantly placed another call. “Patti, can you talk?”
“Lorne? Whatever is the matter? I’ve got two minutes before the next post.”
“Keep it quiet, but Tony’s coming home tomorrow. I’m so excited, I just had to tell someone.”
Laughing, Patti’s words matched her enthusiasm. “I’m so thrilled for you. We must arrange a celebratory drink, you know, when Tony feels up to it.”
“That’d be excellent. Thanks again for your role in all this.”
“Nonsense, I did nothing. I must go.”
“Wait! We’ve arrested a suspect. I believe he’s a guy who disappeared a few years ago and he’s assumed another identity. Can you help at all?”
“If you can get the duty doctor to take a buccal swab for me, I can see if we can make a positive ID, providing we have a sample of his DNA in the system.”
“Ah, now that’s what I’m not sure about. He’s part of a gang, but I think the other two members took the rap for any crimes they committed,” Lorne said thoughtfully.
“That might cause a problem then. Send it over ASAP, and we’ll see what we can do. Why don’t you delve into his medical records?”
“Of course, just to see if his blood group is the same. He might be something other than a regular type O. You’re a star, Patti. Speak soon.”
She called out for Katy, who immediately appeared in the doorway. “Get the duty doc to get a buccal swab from Murray and a sample of blood, too. Then try and track down his medical records—both of them, Murray and Russell. We’ll get the bastard one way or the other.”
“Good idea. I’m on it.” Smiling, Katy asked, “Everything all right? You look as though you’ve had some good news.”
Winking, Lorne mouthed, “Tony’s coming home tomorrow.” Then she placed a finger to her lips.
Katy whispered, “That’s brilliant news.” She tapped her nose and left the room.
By the time Lorne had finished her list of questions and rang the DCI to join her, the team had found the one piece of incriminating evidence she needed to knock Murray off his confident pedestal.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Placing her notebook on the desk along with the brown envelope containing the pictures she’d shown his brother, Lorne sat in the seat opposite Murray-Russell.
DCI Roberts started the tape and named everyone in the room, including Russell’s solicitor, Williams.
Lorne began, “Mr. Russell, for the tape, can you please tell us your connection with the footballers Dave Dobbs and Les Kelly?”
“They’re my clients. I’m their agent.”
“For how long?”
His mouth twisted before he answered. “A couple of years.”
“Do you mind if we get to the point here. I have to be in court in a couple of hours, and if things progress any more slowly, I’m going to be late,” Williams stated, offhandedly. All three of them gave him a dirty look, the harshest one coming from his own client.
“Fine by me. Mr. Russell—or would you rather me call you Trevor Murray? That is your real name, after all, isn’t it?”
Williams looked up from his notebook, looking baffled. Lorne had to stifle a grin when he asked his client, “Is this true? Do you go by an alias?”
“Shut up,” snapped Murray.
“Let me fill you in a little, Mr. Williams, on what we know about your charming client here.” Lorne ran through what they’d uncovered about the suspect, and while she did so the amazed solicitor kept opening and shutting his mouth, like a fish out of water and gasping for air.
By the time she told the solicitor about the robberies and the murders, Murray was glaring at her in rage, giving her the impression that had they been alone, he would have quite happily throttled her.
“Sums it up nicely, doesn’t it?” she asked the suspect.
He wrung his hands together in front of him. “You think you’ve got all this sussed, don’t you, bitch?”
Sensing that DCI Roberts was about to stick up for her, Lorne touched him gently on the thigh. Then she took the photos of the crime scenes out of the envelope and slid them across the desk between the solicitor and his client. She watched Williams take a cursory glance at the photos and heard him gag. Murray smirked, making Lorne angry. You callous bastard!
Then she reached into the envelope again and brought out something the suspect hadn’t been expecting. She thrust the picture from an old driving licence in the name of Trevor Murray before him. Get out of that one, shitface.
“It’s hard to deny with proof as damning as that, isn’t it?” Lorne said.
His brow furrowed for a time before he started smiling, a smile that sent shivers running up her spine. “So what?”
“What did you mean when you said ‘You think you’ve got all this sussed’? Is there someone else connected to these crimes?”
She watched him chew the inside of his mouth as he debated whether to tell her or not. She didn’t have to wait long.
Finally, he admitted, “The robberies weren’t my idea.”
“But you admit you and your gang were behind them?” Lorne asked, her heart thumping.
“My dumb brother has probably told you that already.”
Lorne nodded. “So who was the brains behind this master plan of yours?”
“Before I tell you that, I want some kind of deal,” Murray said.
Lorne nodded again.
Being smart, Murray said, “For the tape, Inspector.”
She scowled at the suspect. It galled her to have to say it, but she knew if she didn’t agree there was every chance the person would get away with it and possibly set up another gang to continue robbing and killing.
“You’ll get a deal if the person you’re about to name is apprehended.”
“You’ve got to do better than that, Inspector.”
Lorne glanced sideways at Roberts who gave a brief nod of encouragement. “Okay, you have my word that you’ll get the best deal. Although with the severity of the crimes involved, I can’t promise anything substantial. I’ll do my best for you.”
“Fair enough. You better get that little backside over to pick up Deb Brownlee, then.”
“What? Are you serious?”
“Yep.”
“Sir, can I see you outside for a moment?”
Roberts stopped the tape, and they both left the room. “I take it you know this Brownlee?” he asked once the interview room door was shut.
“I’ve never met her, but the day after the first robbery I rang her. Jesus, why didn’t I go and see her in person?”
Ignoring her self-damnation, Roberts patted her on the shoulder. “I’ll finish up here. You get over there and arrest her.”
“If you’re sure.”
“Go!”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
She didn’t need telling a second time. Lorne bolted up the stairs to the incident room. “Katy, get ready to go.”
Katy watched the whirlwind that was Lorne fly past her and into her office, returning a few seconds later with her coat on, ready to leave, and heading for the door.
“Where are we going?” Katy asked, running down the stairs after Lorne. She didn’t receive the answer until they pulled out of the car park and into traffic.
“To the club. Murray just told me that Deb Brownlee is the one pulling his strings.”
“Jesus!”
• • •
Thirty minutes later, they had conquered various traffic jams and reached Borthwick City’s ground. Improvements were still being made at one end to comply with premiership rules, as the club had just gained promotion.
Moving swiftly through the glassed reception area, Lorne asked the young woman wearing gaudy eye makeup where the director’s office would be located.
The woman instinctively reached for the phone. Lorne slammed her hand down on top of the woman’s, preventing her from making the call. Showing her warrant card she said, “Just tell me where to go.”
/> The woman’s gaze shot several daggers in her direction before she finally pointed through the set of glass doors on the right.
“Thanks. I’d appreciate you not telling her we’re on the way.” She could say it, but she knew it was pointless. The minute they disappeared through the doors, the scary-eyed woman would be straight on the phone to warn Brownlee.
“Come on, Katy. Quick.”
The glass doors led onto a long narrow hallway that had numerous glass offices on either side. At the very end, Lorne honed in on a large oak door, different from the others in the hallway, that had ‘boss’ door’ written all over it. When they got nearer, the plaque indicated her suspicion to be correct. Without knocking, Lorne burst into the office. The woman sitting behind the large oval glass desk gave the impression she’d been expecting them.
“Can I help you?” Brownlee asked. Lorne suspected Brownlee’s tone usually had men going weak at the knees. She swept her long mane of blonde hair over her shoulder and stood up. Coming from behind the desk, she held out a long bony, almost skeletal, red-varnished hand for Lorne to shake.
Ignoring it, she flashed her ID. “DI Simpkins and DS Foster. We’d like to ask you some questions.”
The woman took a couple of steps back, perched her scrawny behind on the desk, and casually folded her arms. “About what?”
“About the recent robberies concerning a couple of your players.”
“Ah, I remember. You rang me last week after David Dobbs’ house was burgled. Unfortunate incident.”
“It was indeed. Something that I’ve since learned you know more about than you led me to believe.”
The woman’s smile didn’t falter. “I’m not sure I follow, Inspector.”
“Maybe this will help you: At the moment, we have a couple of your associates either in prison or at the station giving interviews.”
Still, the confident façade remained. “Associates? Associates in what, may I ask?”
“Have you heard from Stuart Russell lately, Ms. Brownlee?” Lorne asked, stepping closer to the woman, whose attitude was starting to tick her off.
She placed a slim finger to the side of her head, indicating that she was wracking her brain for a suitable date to appease them. “Um…Sometime last month, I believe. Why?”
“And the meeting was about?”
“What it’s always about. A player, if I remember rightly.”
Lorne shot back quickly, “That player wouldn’t be Dave Dobbs, would it?”
Smiling broadly and blinking numerous times, something Lorne assumed Brownlee only did when she was nervous, she replied, “It might have been. I can’t really remember.”
Lorne gave the woman one of her ‘Don’t take me for an idiot’ looks. “During the meeting, is that when you and Russell hatched the plan?”
An uncertain look crossed Brownlee’s face, but the woman’s laughing gaze riled Lorne. “Plan? What plan would that be?”
“The plan where you decided to rob the Dobbses and kill their children,” she challenged. “And before you try denying it, Russell has already implicated you in the crime and told us everything.”
“You’re bluffing. He wouldn’t dare.”
“I think you’ll find he has, and to save his own skin he volunteered your name as quick as that.” She clicked her fingers together.
“You’re trying to trick me.”
“I’m not. He’s being most cooperative. How else would we know you were involved?”
Momentarily, Brownlee looked flummoxed by her question. In the end, she held Lorne’s gaze, and her mouth remained firmly shut.
“What I can’t understand is why someone in your position would stoop so low?” Again, no response. So Lorne continued, “Was murder part of the plan?”
Brownlee’s head dropped, and she continued to stare at the carpet a few feet in front of her.
“Do you have any kids, Ms. Brownlee? Have you got any idea what those poor people are going through right now? The guilt those two mothers will have to live with for the rest of their lives? Lorne’s voice rose in anger with each question that went unanswered. “My God, woman, do you even care?”
The questions finally seemed to hit a nerve. Brownlee lifted her head, and her calm and collected persona vanished. She gave Lorne a venomous scowl. Baring slightly crooked teeth, she snarled, “Do I care? No, I don’t fucking care. Why should I?”
Disgusted by the woman’s ferocious outburst, Lorne shook her head. “Three innocent kids. Why?”
“I had no idea he was going to kill the kids, but—”
“No, don’t tell me. When you heard about the murders, you thought they were a neat idea.”
Brownlee shrugged.
“Why would you think such a thing? What harm have those women ever done to you?”
Instead of Brownlee answering Lorne’s question, Katy did. “Envy. You were envious of them.”
Lorne kept her gaze focused on Brownlee and watched her lip curl up again, her eyes sparkling with anger. “They don’t deserve what they have.”
“Who don’t? The wives or the players employed by your club?” Lorne asked, confused.
“All of them. Some of these players are on more money a week than I earn in a year. All they do is kick a shitting ball around for ninety or one hundred and eighty minutes per week.”
Disbelief made Lorne shake her head. “As opposed to you working your butt off for what, eighty hours a week?”
“That’s right. Without me, this club wouldn’t run like clockwork.”
Lorne surveyed the office, which could only be described as minimalistic. The only items in the room were a corkboard on the wall behind Brownlee’s chair that was full of postcards from exotic paradise isles, the desk, and her chair. Katy was right. The woman was bloody jealous.
“You’re sick. You wanted those women to suffer long after the robbery. That’s why you told Murray to kill the kids, wasn’t it?” The smirk Brownlee gave her was enough to admit her guilt. Lorne took a step closer, menacingly, standing so close they were almost touching noses. “You’ll get yours, Ms. Fancy Director. Your punishment won’t only be your extensive prison sentence, but the women prisoners will take great pleasure in making sure you live with the guilt for the rest of your sorrowful life. One thing they can’t stand is a child killer. Get the cuffs on, Sergeant, and read her rights to her.”
• • •
That evening, after making sure both suspects were tucked up comfortably in their cells, the team set off to the White Horse for a quick celebratory drink.
Roberts popped in for a swift half to propose a toast, “To the best DI in town.”
She blushed as the team cheered and called out her name before Roberts guided Lorne to a table by the window. “Not sure I agree with your announcement.”
“Don’t be so modest. You are the best DI the Met has, male or female.”
“Then why didn’t I arrest Russell and Brownlee sooner?”
“Lorne.” Roberts warned. “Let me put it this way: If you hadn’t made the connection with Underhill and Zac Murray, this case would never have been solved.”
He had a point, but it didn’t stop the guilt she was feeling. Or the relief that another family hadn’t suffered in the way the Dobbses and Kellys had.
“Okay. I need to talk to you about where I go from here.”
Roberts nodded but didn’t appear too surprised by her statement. “Go on.”
“I just wanted to prepare you, really. I’m still in the dark about what kind of care Tony is going to need when he returns. I think it would be best if I handed in my notice.”
“Don’t do anything rash. See how things are when he returns. You’ll probably be grateful for the salary, if…”
She knew what he was reluctant to say. But Tony’s needs would always come first from then on. Fair enough that if she had a ‘normal’ nine-to-five job, maybe she wouldn’t think twice about jacking her job in; but being a copper wasn’t just a career. It
was a consuming way of life.
“We’ll see. Anyway, at the rate DS Foster is tearing up the ranks, I can see her banging on your door in a few years, wanting to move up the pay scale.”
They both looked over at Katy, who was sitting on a stool next to AJ, deep in conversation.
“So do you think she’ll ever be as good as you?” Roberts asked with a furrowed brow.
“Honestly? I think she’ll be even better. I’ll always be around if she needs any advice in the future. We’ve both been through a lot together this past week. I have no reservations about the strength of her character and will to survive.”
Roberts leaned into Lorne and whispered, “She reminds me so much of you, when you first joined. Of course, that’ll have to stop before it gets going.”
She smiled. “I’ll have a word, although they do make a striking couple.”
“Seriously, Lorne, whatever you decide to do, there will always be a job open on my team for you.”
She punched his arm playfully. “Thanks, Sean. I appreciate that.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
The following morning, Lorne stretched and cuddled Henry for a minute or two before the collie started whining to be let out. She’d had the best night’s sleep she’d had in days, her mind restful now that she knew Tony was on his way home. She sang in the shower, something she rarely did, before she started tidying the house, making it all sparkly for his arrival.
Mid-morning she received two phone calls. The first was from Edwards, telling her that the plane had departed safely and was scheduled to land at four as arranged. The second was from her sister, Jade. “My God, Lorne, I’m so sorry. Dad rang me this morning to tell me about Tony.”
“Did he? I didn’t want you worrying. You have enough on your plate, sweetheart.” Lorne threw herself down on the sofa, taking the opportunity to have a breather from the domestic chores.
“How will he cope? It’s just awful. You’re still getting married, aren’t you?”
Lorne found herself shaking her head. When Jade got going, she could give the Gestapo a run for their money.
“I’ll answer those in order. It remains to be seen, and yes, we’re still getting married—at least, I hope so. Tony’s injury might have caused him to have second thoughts on the matter.” It was the first time she’d thought about that. Panic rose and constricted her chest. What if he couldn’t bear her seeing him as an invalid? Who was to say what his reaction would be to his own injuries? What if he finished with her, told her to live life to the full with someone he considered better than himself? What if…What if…
