Tom Douglas Box Set 2

by Rachel Abbott

  Tom was striding about in front of Keith’s wall of images, maps and name cards, firing questions at the poor guy, when the call came through to say that Cooper had arrived.

  ‘Sergeant Cooper’s here, boss,’ she said. Keith looked at her with relief.

  ‘Right.’ Tom swept up his file and set off for the door.

  Becky glanced over her shoulder at Keith, who gave her what could only be described as a grimace. Tom rarely got into a mood like this, and Becky knew that the best way to deal with him was to speak only when spoken to. She followed a few steps behind as they made their way down to the interview room.

  To say that Edward Cooper looked uncomfortable was an understatement. His cheeks looked flushed, and he was biting his bottom lip. He stood up when Tom entered and held out his hand. ‘Sir.’

  Tom ignored the hand and sat down.

  ‘Sergeant Cooper, you are a serving police officer. Correct?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘And on what planet is it acceptable for someone in your position to lie outright to a senior officer?’

  Cooper dropped his eyes and focused on his hands, the fingers interlocked, thumbs twitching.

  ‘Did I lie, sir?’

  Oh crikey, Becky thought. Bad move, Sergeant Cooper.

  ‘Are you telling me you don’t know the difference between truth and lies, Sergeant? Isn’t that a bit of a disadvantage as a police officer?’

  ‘Of course, sir. But I’m not sure when you think I lied to you.’

  ‘You scoffed at the idea of Bernie Gray having a relationship with Alison Morgan when in fact you knew about it all along, and that she was putting him under emotional pressure to continue with it. So you lied to me, knowing that it might be relevant to our investigation.’

  Cooper clearly couldn’t bring himself to look at Tom.

  ‘I’m sorry. I was trying to protect Natalie. I didn’t want her ever to know about Alison. It will break her heart if she finds out, and I didn’t see how it would help you to discover what Bernie’s involvement was in that website.’

  ‘That wasn’t your decision to make, Sergeant. So tell me what you know. All of it, please.’

  ‘Bernie told me that Alison had him over a barrel. Because of one indiscretion he’d been forced into a relationship with her that he didn’t want. But he was determined to get out of it.’

  For the first time it seemed as if two stories actually matched, which Becky thought was progress of a sort.

  ‘What else did he tell you?’

  Finally, Cooper looked up.

  ‘He told me he’d done something very stupid – apart from the affair, that is. He’d let something slip about a case, and he’d known for months that he had been the leak in an active enquiry.’

  Becky felt a tingle. She had been right, she was sure of it. Bernie had been with Alison when the news came through, and in his elation at the breakthrough he had told her more than he should have.

  ‘Was this leak related to his relationship with Alison Morgan?’ Tom asked.

  ‘That thought never occurred to me. Alison’s a scheming bitch, but I never thought she was anything more than a troublemaker. I assumed the affair and the leak were two separate acts of stupidity, and Bernie told me he was putting everything right,’ Cooper said, his lip curling slightly at his friend’s lack of judgement.

  ‘Did he tell you how he was planning to escape Alison’s clutches?’

  ‘He said he had something on her that trumped anything she had on him. He’d been following her for weeks and had discovered what he called his “pot of gold”. “Just one more piece of the puzzle to find, and then I can get rid of her,” was all he said.’

  ‘And what did you think he meant by that?’

  ‘I’m afraid I don’t know, sir. I was so angry with him for the hurt he was going to cause Natalie and for putting his own interests before the case. I lost it with him and had to leave the room or I might have said something I would regret.’

  ‘Well, all I can say, Sergeant Cooper, is that your greatest regret should be that you didn’t tell us this sooner. A good deal sooner.’

  ‘But I couldn’t see the relevance. Bernie was hit by a stolen vehicle, and Alison wouldn’t have a clue how to do that. She wouldn’t have had time to dump it, set fire to it and get back to Natalie’s right after the news broke. We knew it was a hit-and-run, so what was the point of causing Natalie even more upset by stirring up all this other crap?’

  Becky glanced at Tom. He was looking hard at Ed Cooper, and Becky knew that look. She just hoped Cooper would quit while he was ahead, because one more comment like that and Tom might just lose it.

  81

  Scarlett felt as if she couldn’t breathe. The intercom had just buzzed. It was bound to be the police, and she didn’t know if she could do this.

  Her mum gave her a reassuring smile as she pressed the button to let them through the main door. ‘It’s going to be fine, sweetheart. You’ll see.’

  Scarlett only had minutes to try to compose herself, and in spite of knowing they were on their way, she jumped when there was a double rap on the door. She didn’t know how she was expecting a corrupt police officer to look, but it certainly wasn’t the way Detective Chief Inspector Douglas looked when her mum opened the door. He was tall with broad shoulders and a friendly smile. Older than her dad had been when he died, he was smartly dressed in a dark suit with a deep purple tie.

  After shaking her mum’s hand and introducing himself, he turned to Scarlett.

  ‘Hi, Scarlett. My name’s Tom, and I think you’ve met Becky, haven’t you? We mainly want to talk to your mum, so in a few minutes Becky will take you into the other room for a chat, if that’s okay.’

  Scarlett’s head was spinning. It was hard to decide what she could and couldn’t say, because in spite of his friendly demeanour she knew that this man was a monster.

  ‘Oh, she doesn’t need to leave the room, Chief Inspector. It’s fine. I don’t want us to have secrets.’

  Tom smiled. ‘Let’s see how things go, shall we?’

  The room seemed very cramped with all four of them in it. Scarlett and her mum sat on the sofa while Tom perched on a stool and Becky lowered herself gingerly onto the coffee table, as if fearing that it would give way under her.

  Scarlett half listened as Tom explained how they were approaching the revitalised enquiry into her dad’s death.

  ‘Mrs Gray, I think you know that your friend Sergeant Cooper found a notebook with a web address in it.’

  ‘Yes. He told me, and he showed me a copy of the page. But there are lots of reasons why Bernie might have had that, aren’t there?’ She was speaking quickly, a pleading look in her eyes.

  ‘We’re looking at all kinds of possibilities, don’t worry. But I gather your husband used to make notes all the time in different notebooks or even on scraps of paper. Sergeant Cooper mentioned some boxes, but I gather he doesn’t have them any more.’

  ‘No, that’s right. My friend Alison is looking after them for now.’

  Scarlett saw Becky glance at her boss but had no idea what that meant.

  ‘I wonder if you have anything else of his that we might see, anything that might help us to fill in some gaps?’ Tom asked.

  Scarlett was struck by a memory of the conversation she had overheard – something about a note with the address of this apartment. And didn’t her mum mention the south wing too? Scarlett felt the pressure in her chest increase. What was she going to say?

  ‘There was one thing, but I don’t know if it’s important or not.’

  No, Mum, Scarlett thought. Don’t say anything about the south wing.

  ‘Go on – it doesn’t matter how trivial you think it is.’

  ‘I rented this apartment through an agent. I recently found a receipt dated a couple of days before Bernie died. He’d written on the back of it. It’s strange, because he’d written the address of this building and two apartment numbers: this one and flat 210S
– that’s in the south wing. I’ve been racking my brains to work out why Bernie would have known about this place. I’d never heard of it or been here until the agent offered it to me, and I can’t think what the connection is. I’ve never been in the south wing, so I don’t know who lives there – I’ve been meaning to go round and check.’

  Scarlett jumped up from the sofa. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I need the bathroom.’

  Her mum looked at her in surprise as she walked across the room and picked up her phone from the kitchen counter. Everybody else had their backs to her, but she saw her mum’s puzzled frown. She ignored her.

  ‘Who’s the agent that rented you the apartment?’ Tom asked.

  ‘That’s the strange thing,’ she said. ‘They called me. They told me they were returning my call – I’d tried a few agencies – but I’ve tried to call them back and I can’t get any response. And I can’t find their name online either.’

  Scarlett stepped into the bathroom and closed the door. She couldn’t hear what they were saying – it was little more than a murmur – but she heard the bedroom door opening and knew her mum had gone to get the note. She sat down on the toilet seat and sent a text to Lewis. She couldn’t mention her dad, so had no idea how she was going to explain her words. But she had to warn him: Mum’s talking to the police about a piece of paper she’s found that mentions apartment 210S.

  The reply was swift, and Scarlett could have kicked herself for not setting her phone to silent as the beep of an incoming text echoed around the bathroom walls: Shit! That’s all we need. DCI Douglas might come snooping, but he won’t find anything. Text me when they’ve gone. I want to see you to thank you properly.

  Scarlett’s moment of elation at Lewis’s response was interrupted by a quiet knock on the door.

  ‘Scarlett, are you okay, love?’

  Scarlett opened the door and came out. ‘I’m fine, Mum. Sorry.’

  She had to stop these police officers from destroying her dad’s and Lewis’s hard work, and saw her opportunity when Becky suggested they have a chat in the bedroom.

  ‘Tom wants to talk to your mum about some stuff, Scarlett, so shall we give them some space?’

  Becky followed her into the bedroom and they sat on the edge of the bed. Becky turned towards her, tucking one foot under the other thigh.

  ‘I know this is difficult for you, Scarlett, but—’

  Scarlett interrupted: ‘Is there someone I can speak to who’s higher up than Mr Douglas, Becky? It has to be a woman. Can you arrange that?’

  Becky reached out a hand and touched Scarlett’s wrist.

  ‘Hey, Scarlett, what’s up? Whatever’s worrying you, you can tell me. Or tell Tom if you prefer. We can keep it to ourselves, I promise you.’

  Scarlett shook her head. ‘No. The only person I can talk to has to be higher up and a woman. Can you fix it for me, please?’

  She could see bewilderment in Becky’s eyes, but the detective reached out and patted Scarlett’s hand. ‘Of course. I’ll ask Detective Superintendent Philippa Stanley. She’s Tom’s boss and knows all about the case.’

  I bet she doesn’t know everything, Scarlett thought.

  ‘When I’ve got a time for you to meet her, I’ll call you with the details. Is that okay?’

  Scarlett didn’t like the sound of that. If her mum was around, she would ask who she was talking to.

  ‘Can you text me instead, please?’

  ‘Sure,’ Becky said, adding Scarlett’s number to her contacts. She looked as if she was about to ask Scarlett another question when there was a cry from the sitting room.

  ‘That’s a lie!’

  Scarlett jumped up from the bed and ran into the sitting room. Her mum was bent over, her head resting on the heels of her hands, her back shaking with sobs.

  Tom stood up and looked at Becky and Scarlett.

  ‘Scarlett, Becky and I are going to leave you and your mum for a while. She’s had a shock, but we do need to talk to you again. We’ll give her some time. Are you okay here, or do you want Becky to call someone for you?’

  Scarlett thought quickly. ‘You could call Alison?’ she suggested.

  ‘I think not,’ Tom said.

  Before Scarlett could suggest anyone else her mum shouted, ‘Leave me alone. Just go! I don’t need anyone. I don’t trust anyone. I just need Scarlett.’

  Scarlett swallowed. She was the only one her mum trusted, and she was the one telling her the most lies.

  82

  Tom was quiet as they made their way out of the north wing.

  ‘She took it badly, then?’ Becky said, somewhat stating the obvious.

  ‘Yep.’ Tom carried on walking, hands stuffed in his trouser pockets, focusing on his feet as he went. ‘If I could have spared her I would have. But I had to know if she knew what was going on – whether she had a reason to kill her husband.’

  ‘And based on her reaction, are you assuming she had no idea? The poor woman. Her pride must have taken a massive hit, knowing all this had been going on behind her back.’

  Becky felt briefly uncomfortable as she remembered that Tom’s wife had left him for another man.

  ‘It’s not as simple as that, Becky. She was proud of her husband too, I think, and of everything he represented. Now she has to deal with the fact that he wasn’t who she thought, and the other person she trusted most in the world has been quietly stabbing her in the back.’

  Becky glanced at Tom, but his expression showed nothing. She hoped she hadn’t stirred up old memories and decided to change the subject.

  ‘Why do you think Bernie had the address of the apartment all that time ago?’

  ‘It can’t be a coincidence, that’s for sure. Let’s find out who owns it and see who’s living in the other one. Then we’ll go back and see Mrs Gray. I suspect the poor woman has a few more surprises to come about her friend, if not her husband. Speaking of Alison Morgan, what time are they picking her up?’

  ‘Any time now.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘Yeah, and someone’s now got the unpleasant task of looking through all the photos on the website, to see if we can match up pictures of Amber or Jennifer Bale,’ Becky said.

  Tom’s mouth set in a thin line.

  ‘Here’s hoping we can catch every one of the bastards for what they’ve done to those girls, but I’m not sure we’re any closer to working out who killed Bernie Gray or why. Now that Kieran O’Connor’s alibi has been confirmed, and considering everything we’re uncovering about Gray’s life, it seems most likely to me that somebody took that stolen car with the intention of using it to kill him. But was that because he was involved in the website with Alison Morgan or because he was about to expose her? Or was it something else entirely?’

  ‘Keith’s been looking into Gray’s finances and can’t find anything unusual, although the proceeds from the website could be hidden somewhere, of course.’

  ‘Yeah, like everything else in this bloody case,’ Tom said as they reached the main door.

  He ran down the metal staircase and up the other side, leaving Becky lagging behind. She wasn’t as fit as she thought, and she could see that he’d noticed.

  ‘Sorry,’ he said.

  ‘What for? Just go at your normal speed, Tom. Don’t make allowances – I’ll catch up.’

  Tom nodded once, ringing the buzzer for the caretaker with one hand and pulling out his warrant card with the other.

  ‘Yes?’ The harsh shout through the speaker came from a man who sounded like he needed to cough.

  ‘Detective Chief Inspector Tom Douglas. We’d like a word, please.’

  The intercom went dead, and for almost a minute nothing happened. Tom was about to buzz again when the door was pulled open.

  ‘Sorry,’ said the short, rotund man standing in the open doorway, whose BO Becky could smell from where she stood. ‘Couldn’t get the bloody thing to open from my handset.’

  That’s a lie, for a start, Becky thought. Sh
e could tell from the way he wouldn’t meet their eyes. So what had he been doing for that minute, or did he just object to the police in general?

  ‘Who lives in apartment 210S?’ Tom asked without preamble.

  The man looked up, apparently startled, but dropped his eyes almost immediately before he answered. ‘It’s empty. Always has been.’

  ‘Could you tell us who owns it?’ Becky asked, trying not to get too close as they went into the foyer.

  ‘It’s a company. I can find the details, if you’ll just wait.’

  ‘You can look for those while we go up and check out the apartment,’ Tom said. ‘The key, please.’

  The man looked as if he was going to object, but he went into his room and came out again, a key fob dangling from his index finger.

  ‘I should probably ask you to sign for this,’ he said. Tom gave him a look, and the man waddled back behind his door, hitching up his trousers as he went.

  ‘We need you to sign to say you’ve given us permission, sir,’ Becky said, following him in and fishing a form out of her bag, rather wishing she had got him to do it out in the corridor rather than in the confined and malodorous space of his room.

  They headed for the lift. Becky couldn’t help noticing how much smarter the corridors were in this part of the building and for a moment wished she could afford something here. Perhaps if she and Mark combined their salaries, rather than having separate apartments but living almost exclusively at Mark’s, it might be possible.

  Finally they approached the door of 210S. Tom inserted the key and opened it. ‘Hello?’ he shouted, in case the caretaker had been lying about the flat being empty. But his voice sounded echoey and the place felt deserted.

  ‘I’ll go left, you go right,’ Tom said, disappearing through a door close to the entrance. ‘Bathroom,’ he shouted.

  Becky walked through the only door on the right into a big space, empty except for a well-designed modern kitchen area. Somehow the room’s dimensions didn’t seem quite right. She stood in the doorway and thought about the corridor. It was longer than it ought to be, she was certain. Becky shrugged and glanced at the tall windows, which gave surprisingly little light due to the narrow street and the facing buildings, but could see nothing of interest. She heard Tom’s footsteps behind her.