by Linda Regan
“I’m going to keep Fisher in overnight, teach him a lesson,” she said. “He should know better than to lie on a murder enquiry.”
“Oh come on, it was to stop a work associate getting into trouble,” Banham protested. “At least we know he’s loyal.”
“Police work isn’t a game. If they want to stay in the job they need to learn that.”
“I think you’re being too harsh.”
She sniffed. “Milk?”
“Please.”
She half-filled a mug from the coffee machine and topped it up with milk from a carton on the desk.
“Look,” Banham continued, “we know Sadie was murdered between two and five in the morning. We have Andrew on CCTV during that time, and we know Millie was at the club as well. Our job is to find Sadie’s killer, not train PCSOs in professionalism.”
“Sorry, no biscuits, Crowther’s eaten them all.”
“It’s not as if either of them is a suspect,” Banham persisted.
“We still haven’t any CCTV of Millie in the club. Besides, it’s not about being a suspect. If they want to be in the force, they have to learn to respect it.”
Banham flung his hands up. “Have it your way. Are you hungry?”
“I want to go through the CCTV footage again. I’ll send out for a takeaway later. You go home.”
“What about...?”
“I didn’t get much sleep last night,” she cut in quickly. “I’d like to grab all I can tonight.”
The skin at the side of his eyes crinkled. She loved that smile, but she read disappointment behind it now. She pushed the thought away; if she let it in, she wouldn’t be spending the next few hours looking through CCTV footage.
“What are you looking for on the tapes?” Banham asked her, reaching for his coat. Good; he’d got the message.
“Chang said Sadie was doing drugs. He wouldn’t dirty his own hands dealing. So I’m going to see if I can see anyone else dealing in there last night.”
“I’ll stay with you,” he told her. “Two can work quicker than one.”
She rubbed her forehead slowly. He was right. And it would be good to have his company. “Thanks,” she smiled. “But you’ve got to promise to go and see Bobby tomorrow.”
“If you promise to eat something.”
“Deal.”
“I’ll go out and get the takeaway.” He picked up his sheepskin-lined black leather coat again. Lottie had given it to him as a late Christmas gift and a thank-you for supporting her through a bad time. Alison knew he still felt guilty that his twin had spent so much, but it was a great coat. She hadn’t seen him wear it to work before, though.
She turned the tape machine on and CCTV images flicked across the screen at high speed. “What’s with the Astra Cadix?” she murmured. “And where does the bloodstained knife and crystal meth fit in?”
Banham could offer no answer. “Col’s meeting his informant tonight; that may turn up something. I’ll get chicken and cashew nuts, shall I? Do you want prawn or egg fried rice?”
“Whichever.”
He left, and she gave the tape her full attention. After a few minutes she pressed Pause and looked more closely. Johnny Gladman and Sadie were outside the club; Johnny put something in her hand, then Terry King came out and snatched what looked like an earring from Sadie’s ear. Johnny followed King back into the club, and Sadie set off up the street.
Alison ejected the tape and reached for another, which showed Sadie walking down the road, zigzagging and stumbling. She froze, and paused the tape. A car on the other side of the road had pulled out and moved off at a snail’s pace.
“Who is it?” the voice said from the intercom.
“It’s OK, Lily. It’s me.”
The front door clicked, and Millie climbed the stairs. Lily was waiting at her own front door.
Millie was very edgy, but pulled herself together. She watched as Lily checked the stairs and landing before closing the door. Millie followed her into the living room. An empty wineglass stood on the table. If Lily had been drinking alone she must be scared.
“I can stay over if you’ll feel safer,” she told her friend. “But you do need to tell me about this stalker. Did you get a good look at him?”
“He’s very odd looking,” Lily told her. “He wears dark glasses and a raincoat, and I think he’s got a toupée or a wig. He could be anybody.”
There was an awkward silence. “You don’t believe me, do you?” Lily said.
“Of course I do.” There was another silence, then Millie said, “Look – you’re playing Marilyn Monroe. She was a worldwide icon. There are lots of very strange people out there.”
“So you think he’s harmless? I’m being stalked because I’m playing Marilyn Monroe?”
Millie chose her words carefully. “Not necessarily. Tell me everything you remember about him, even if it seems silly.”
Lily shrugged. “That’s it. There’s nothing else to tell.”
“You’re not travelling to Birmingham alone?”
“No, the whole cast is travelling together. They’re picking me up.”
“Here?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Do they know about the stalker?”
“They haven’t seen him.”
The doorbell rang and both women jumped.
“I’ll go.” Millie stood up.
It was Crowther.
“It’s fine,” Millie said. “He’s a police sergeant, come to take your statement.” She smiled coyly, “He’s also my new boyfriend. He’s gorgeous, and he’ll look after you.”
Crowther’s hair was standing on end like a cockatoo, and his rolled-up sleeves still looked like carpet samples. He smiled from ear to ear as he clocked Lily Palmer, five feet nine in bare feet and absolutely stunning.
Isabelle followed him, looking less than pleased.
“This is Colin. Sergeant Colin Crowther,” Millie said.
Lily looked unimpressed but shook his hand politely. “Millie’s told me all about you,” she said. “I hear you’re her new fella?”
Isabelle looked thunderous.
Lily poured them all a glass of wine. Crowther said, “We found something in Sadie’s flat that makes us think her murder may have been drug related.”
The colour drained from Lily’s face.
“You haven’t told her, have you?” Isabelle demanded.
Chapter Eight
Alison had left a message on Millie’s mobile saying she wanted to speak to her. Crowther brought her into her office first thing Sunday morning. They both looked as if they’d dressed in a hurry. Millie’s hair was greasy and sticking to her head as if she had just done a workout, and mascara was smudged around her eyes like a toy panda. Crowther’s tie was knotted upside down, like a large orange and pink medallion against his chest. It didn’t take a detective to work out why. Alison admired his energy, but still found Millie infuriating.
“There’s no reason to believe Lily Palmer’s stalker is connected to the murder,” she told her. “We now have evidence that connects Sadie’s death to something else.”
Millie looked at Alison with big innocent eyes.
“I’m still not taking any chances,” Alison went on. “She knows and trusts you, so I’m assigning you to stay in close touch with her, like a family liaison officer. When she leaves for Birmingham tomorrow, I want you to keep in regular phone contact, and report back to me or Sergeant Crowther if there are any further sightings of this stalker, in London or Birmingham. Is that clear?”
Millie nodded obediently, then the blue eyes focused on Alison again. “Look, you’ll probably say I’m speaking out of turn, but Colin told me you’ve locked Andrew in a cell for lying to the police.”
Alison glared at Crowther. He was perched on the side of her desk, arms crossed over his chest, covering the tie. “His name, while on duty, is Sergeant Crowther, and Andrew is PCSO Fisher. And you’ll call me ma’am.”
“Ma’am, all this is my fault.
PSCO Fisher was covering for me. I asked him to, while I had a dress fitting at the club.”
“Then consider yourself lucky that we haven’t brought a charge against you too!” Alison was strung up, and surprised at how nervous she felt without Banham to back her up.
“I know I did wrong,” Millie said.
“At least you admitted you were in the club in your statement,” Alison said. “Fisher denied it.”
“He did that for me,” Millie protested. “I realise I was stupid, but I’ve learned my lesson and it will never happen again.”
Crowther was pleading her case with his puppy eyes; she clearly had him wrapped around her finger.
“Let me give you some advice,” Alison said, keeping a tight hold on her temper. “If you want to do other work while you are PCSO, as an actress – ” she drew speech marks in the air – “or anything else for that matter, you ask permission and tell your duty sergeant exactly what you’re doing. Is that clear?”
“Crystal, ma’am.”
“That club is strictly out of bounds. You might want to think about what’s important to you in career terms.”
Millie hung her head. Alison felt herself softening. It didn’t last.
“Erm, ma’am, Colin and I were talking on the way in. Don’t get me wrong, I fully understand the club is out of bounds for me as a police officer – but I really would like to help find Sadie’s killer. Could I carry on working there, with your knowledge, sort of undercover?”
Alison’s eyes flared, and she turned them on Crowther. “Whose idea was this?”
“It ain’t a bad one,” Crowther shrugged.
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
“Will you think about it?” Millie persisted.
Alison stared at her in disbelief. “Go and report to DC Isabelle Walsh,” she told her. “She is overseeing you. Lily has told her she’ll be staying at home today, is that right?
“Yes, ma’am.”
“The patrol car in the area is keeping an eye on the block of flats, and you can go round after your shift. Stay with her tonight, and call in if you see or hear anything suspicious. If you notice a car nearby, make a note of the registration number.”
“Yes, ma’am. Erm, what about PCSO Fisher?”
You had to admire her, Alison thought; she stands up for her friends. “He lied to stop you getting into trouble – I couldn’t let that go. But he’ll be released as soon as we have forensic clearance on his coat. He can go to Lily’s with you after your shift.”
Alison paused, and gave Millie an appraising look. “I won’t mention this incident again, to you or your duty sergeant. I hope you’ve learned your lesson.”
Millie left, looking suitably shamefaced. Through the glass panel in her office door, Alison saw the squad gathering for the briefing. A few minutes later she was perched on the side of Isabelle’s desk at the front of the room.
“OK, everyone,” she shouted. “What’s new?”
On the far side of the room was a large map of the area surrounding the park. The roads that had already received door-to-door visits from uniform were highlighted in fluorescent green; a pink highlight showed the next ones in line.
“The vehicle check you ran last night: the Volvo belongs to Bruno Pelegino’s mother and is registered at her address.” This was Isabelle. “The mother claims she was home on Friday night, so either she’s lying or Bruno was driving it. He seems to have disappeared into thin air. Colin sat outside most of the night waiting for him to come home.”
“Is that right, Crowther?”
“Yeah. No sign of him, but I’ll stay on it.”
Millie must have been with him, Alison thought; he wouldn’t shirk his responsibility or lie to her. Good job Penny wasn’t checking the car for DNA!
“Uniform are looking out for the car,” Isabelle went on.
“The car is on CCTV at 2.50 a m,” Alison said. “The mother is lying.”
“She actually said she heard Bruno come in shortly after she went to bed, but couldn’t confirm the time. Some time after midnight.” Isabelle read from her notes.
“Go back and ask her if Bruno has a car of his own. If he does, and he took it out Friday night, she’s definitely lying – so bring her in for questioning.” Alison took a deep breath. “But finding him is a priority, he’s a key suspect.”
“On it, ma’am.”
She narrowed her eyes; was Crowther taking the piss? If he was, it didn’t show on his face.
“Anything come through on forensics yet?” she asked him. “Or haven’t you had time to talk to Penny yet?”
His grin told her the shot had hit its mark, but there wasn’t a trace of shame in it. His response was businesslike. “She has tests underway on the bloodstained knife and the hand-gun. It’s just a matter of time.”
She moved on. “The CCTV shows Johnny Gladman slipping something into Sadie’s hand as she left the club on Friday – yet no drugs were found at the scene. Any thoughts?”
“Perhaps she handed them on to her killer,” a tall DC said from the back of the room. “Perhaps there was an argument.”
“Perhaps the ex-husband found out she was taking drugs,” another DC suggested.
“She was getting divorced,” Isabelle put. “Drugs are quick money.”
“Perhaps Eddie Chang’s involved after all,” Alison mused. “Maybe he got wind of her dealing and had her taken out?”
Crowther shook his head. “Nah. There’s more to it than that. Where does the bloodstained knife come in?”
Eric was leaning against the wall as usual, a cigarette behind his ear. He raised a hand. “What about the other Monroe impersonator, the one who thinks someone is following her?”
Alison pursed her lips. “PCSO Payne and her partner are going to stay with her after her shift. If there is a stalker we’ll find him. Crowther and Walsh took a statement from her last night.”
“I think she’s a frightened woman,” Crowther put in.
Alison nodded agreement. “We’ve got a patrol car staying close all day, and the two PCSOs will stay with her this evening. Any sign of him and we’ll pick him up. Eric, I want you to stay on liaison with Sadie’s parents until tomorrow. They might tell you something.”
“Ma’am.”
“Col, you and I are going back to Doubles this morning to talk to Johnny Gladman and Terry King. I want to know what Gladman gave her outside the club. It could have been the handgun – it’s a very small one.”
“We have to tread carefully at the club,” Crowther said. “We can’t afford to rock the CO19 operation. If he thinks we’re watching the club, he’ll cancel the pick-up at Dover. We can’t afford for that to happen.”
“We can’t afford for Chang to find this killer before we do either!”
A murmur of agreement ran round the incident room.
“I want everyone else carry on interviewing all the club members,” Alison continued. “Statements from every staff member, all the impersonators, Elvises, Sinatras, Liza Minellis and most important every Marilyn lookalike. Isabelle, you need to concentrate on finding Bruno Pelegino. Try all the restaurants again, and try and get a search warrant; I know it’s Sunday but use your charm. If he hasn’t turned up by the end of the day, we can take his mother’s house apart.”
They had been in the car for ten minutes en route for the club, and Crowther hadn’t said a word.
“You’re cross because I read Millie the riot act,” Alison said.
“You were too harsh.”
Alison blew out a breath. “We’ve just got promotion, Col. This is our first case; we want a speedy result. How will it look if Eddie Chang finds the killer before we do?” There was no response. “Crowther, for God’s sake, wake up. I am truly surprised at you. Have you fallen in love or something? She screwed up, big time. She needed to be told.”
Crowther gave her a quick glance. “Sometimes you don’t see further than your nose. Ma’am.”
Now he was taking the piss.
“Meaning?”
“Chang’s a big fish to bring in. We’ve had an informant working at Doubles for months, and we still haven’t netted the bastard. Think what a coup it would be if we nailed him alongside this murder enquiry.” He paused and glanced at her again. She didn’t react. “We’ve got a great opportunity – why not use it? Put Millie in there as an informant.”
“You are bloody joking.”
“My snout will keep an eye on her.” He gave her his schoolboy look that never failed to charm. “Just of think it: your first case as DI, Sadie Morgan’s killer and Eddie Chang both behind bars.”
He had a point. But it wouldn’t work; the girl was too inexperienced, and didn’t think things through. “I thought you liked Millie? Aren’t you concerned for her safety? Chang wouldn’t hesitate to kill anyone who got in his way.”
“She wants to do it,” was all Crowther said.
She began to wonder how far he was prepared to go to get a result. Further than she was, obviously.
She shook her head slowly. “She’s not up to it.”
“She wants to make up for messing up last night. Why not let her? I’d say that’s using your nous.”
“And I’d say that’s using her. She’s not had proper training, and she’s not very bright either.”
“You’re jumping to conclusions, because she’s blonde and pretty.”
Alison didn’t reply.
“Come on, Alison. If it goes wrong I’ll take the rap. And you never know – it just might work.”
This was why he was one of the youngest sergeants in the force. He was a risk taker, and braver than she was.
“I’ll run it past Banham,” she said.
She didn’t tell him Banham had suggested it too.
They didn’t expect the club to be occupied on a Sunday morning, but someone was always around, and they knew if they knocked for long enough the door would be opened.
Terry King greeted them, wearing a Marilyn Monroe wig and heavy make-up over the cut and bruising around his nose. He was dressed in an A-line black skirt covered in a floral apron, with middle-heeled black court shoes and a pink jumper with a roll neck right up to his masculine chin. Alison thought he looked like Dustin Hoffman in Tootsie. She had to fight to keep a straight face when she saw Crowther’s reaction.
