Liar Liar: DI Helen Grace 4 (A DI Helen Grace Thriller)

by M. J. Arlidge

  ‘We’ll take that as a “No comment.” My client has said everything he’s going to, so it’s shit or get off the pot time, Inspector. Either you charge my client now or you release him without delay. It’s really very simple.’

  That cocky smile returned to her features once more.

  ‘So what’s it going to be, DI Grace?’

  71

  ‘Come on, cheeky girl, it’s time for you to go to sleep.’

  Jessica Brooks giggled, picked up one of the many fluffy toys that filled her cot and threw it at her mother. It was the third projectile that Jessica had had aimed at her in the last minute. She was trying to be stern, but privately loved this little game. Jessie seemed to enjoy it so much, displaying a vivacity, cheekiness and sense of humour which Charlie found irresistible. She fervently hoped that her daughter would never lose that aspect of her personality. She was a little girl who seemed to enjoy life and Charlie hoped she always would.

  ‘Now, don’t you do that again.’ She wagged her finger at her daughter in a pantomime gesture. Jessica’s hand was already stretching towards a cuddly panda and seconds later it flew at Charlie. Quickly Charlie caught and threw it back, causing more peals of giggles from Jessica.

  Charlie could hear the landline ringing elsewhere in the house and she prayed it wasn’t for her. She loved her time with her daughter and the couple of hours spent in her company tonight had made her feel normal again. Or as normal as could be expected. Her voice was still hoarse, her throat hurt like hell, but the shock had worn off, her hands no longer shook and each minute spent in Jessica’s joyful company was a powerful tonic.

  The phone had stopped ringing and she could hear Steve talking. She breathed a sigh of relief, then turned to her daughter once more.

  ‘Ok, you. How are we going to get you to sleep? It’s past your bedtime and you know you’ll be a grouch in the morning if you’re tired. So how about we put Brown Bear, Teddy, Snoopy and Fred back in your cot and think about closing our eyes.’

  Jessica didn’t seem particularly keen on this plan, defiantly kicking away the descending mass of soft toys. Charlie realized Steve was now in the doorway and, smiling, gestured towards Jessie.

  ‘Do you want to have a go? I don’t seem to be having much joy.’

  But the look on Steve’s face stopped her in her tracks. He looked sombre and very pale.

  ‘It’s for you,’ he said simply, holding up the cordless phone.

  Charlie suddenly felt sick, though she didn’t know why. Steve never let things get to him, so it must be bad.

  ‘Charlie?’ he reiterated, offering the phone to her. Now she didn’t hesitate, plucking it from him and walking from the room.

  ‘Charlie Brooks,’ she said quickly into the receiver.

  ‘It’s Susan Roberts, Charlie.’

  Susan was one of the Force’s most experienced Family Liaison Officers. Charlie knew her to be a cheery, redoubtable character but her tone only served to spike her anxiety still further.

  ‘What’s the matter, Susan? What’s happened?’

  There was a long pause. To Charlie’s surprise, she realized that Susan was trying not to cry. She had an inkling now of what was coming, but still it rocked her backwards when Susan finally said:

  ‘Alice Simms is dead.’

  72

  Helen and Sanderson stood in Helen’s office, neither saying a word. Outside, Helen could see news of Alice’s death rippling round the incident room. Several members of the team were fighting back tears, others just looked blank with shock. Everybody had been knocked for six by this terrible, sudden tragedy.

  ‘What did they say?’ Sanderson asked.

  Helen had only just got off the phone from the hospital and was still trying to process what they’d told her.

  ‘She’d been stable since the fire but they never managed to get her to regain consciousness. It seems … that her injuries were just too profound and in the end … her heart gave up fighting.’

  Tears pricked Sanderson’s eyes and Helen felt her desolation. They had all been so convinced that this brave little girl would pull through. Had this just been wishful thinking? The doctors had seemed hopeful, but in the end it was a terrible trauma for a little girl to endure. Despite her mother’s very best efforts to save her, it hadn’t been enough. Which meant that Richard Ford was now facing a triple-murder charge.

  ‘What do you want to do?’ Sanderson asked.

  They had been discussing how to respond to Shapiro’s ultimatum when the call had come through. Helen knew she had to keep calm and avoid getting caught up in the emotion of the moment. It was very tempting to charge Ford right now, to seek some immediate justice for Alice and her mum, but they had to be able to make the charges stick.

  ‘Well, he’s got motive and opportunity in abundance. Not to mention the expertise. We know he’s lied to us under caution already on a number of occasions, but he’s not going to confess, so –’

  ‘He might if we charge him. If he thinks he can wriggle out of it by pleading diminished responsibility –’

  ‘But if he doesn’t and ends up beating the rap, it’ll be our fault. We need to link him to the site of the fire itself –’

  ‘What about Deborah Parks’s findings? She said she found a boot print at the Roberts house which matched the sole of Ford’s fire boots –’

  ‘But that print was made post fire, we need evidence of him setting them. We need paraffin in the house, on his clothes, a print on the residual evidence, footage of him buying cigarettes …’

  ‘What if we ask Naomie Jackson to ID him? Put him in the frame for the Roberts fire at least.’

  ‘Wouldn’t stand up. She was clear that she didn’t see his face and it would be easy to disprove. It was dark, she’d had a drink and so on …’

  ‘So what then?’

  Sanderson’s tone was a little too strident for Helen’s liking, but she let it go. They were all wound tight today.

  ‘I’m going to let him go.’

  Sanderson looked so shocked, so disbelieving, that Helen followed up quickly. She didn’t have the time or the headspace for a row with her deputy.

  ‘We can hold him here, but he’s not going to say anything. I want to get him away from Shapiro. While she’s in play, he’ll keep his head down and do what he’s told. But once he’s out there, isolated and scared, then we’ll see the real Richard Ford. He’ll need to be tailed 24/7 of course and we’ll have to keep an eye out for have-a-go heroes wanting a piece of him. If Meredith or Deborah turns up anything, we’ll pull him straight back in, but until then I think his isolation and paranoia could be our best friends. If there is a site where he’s keeping the paraffin and his tools of the trade, then he may well be tempted to try and destroy it now. If he does, we’ll be waiting for him.’

  Sanderson nodded, begrudgingly seeing the wisdom of Helen’s words. Helen knew, were she younger, that she would have been tempted to push Ford through another round of questioning, to try and bulldoze a confession out of him. In some situations this might have worked, but this was different. The Hants Fire and Rescue Service had paid for one of the best legal brains on the South Coast to chaperone their man, so they had to play this smart. Releasing him might destabilize him. He couldn’t return to work while he was still under investigation, so he’d have plenty of time to think. And Helen wanted to see what he would do next.

  So, calling McAndrew into her office, she set the plan in motion. She prayed it was the right move. The team were baying for blood now, they wanted justice, and Helen knew they would never forgive her if the killer slipped through their fingers now.

  73

  Emilia Garanita jogged up and down, trying to keep warm. The temperature was dropping fast and, despite the many layers she’d put on, she was frozen to the bone. She had always felt the cold – a legacy perhaps of her Portuguese heritage – and had never acclimatized to the raw winter winds that swept up the Solent into Southampton.

  This was
the part of the job she enjoyed least. Hanging out in doorways, on street corners, outside police stations and courtrooms, waiting and hoping for the story to come to her. Sometimes you got lucky, most of the time you did not. The knowledge that her siblings – all seven of them – were currently at home tucking into a takeaway in front of Gogglebox only made matters worse. She would give anything to be there with them now, enjoying the warmth and banter of a family evening in, rather than here, freezing her arse off in the vain hope of a break.

  She would give it another hour or so. Her friendly PC had told her to expect developments but so far there had been no signs of movement. She had been posted in a doorway opposite the discreet back entrance of Southampton Central for nearly three hours now. For the first two of those she’d managed to amuse herself tweeting and surfing for info on Richard Ford. But his Facebook page had been shut down – his lawyer’s work no doubt – and the rest of his digital footprint was very limited indeed. This was a guy who seemed to exist in his own world and was thus a journalist’s worst nightmare. No easy copy, no creepy photos to use, no easy inferences to make and no way to damn him with his own words. Garanita hoped he was guilty just for the trouble he was causing her.

  A sound made her look up and suddenly her heart beat a little faster. There was his lawyer, Hannah Shapiro. Normally she would stride out the front, bold as brass. If she was coming out the back, it could only mean …

  There he was. He was hard to miss, the severe buzz cut failing to hide the fierce orange tone to his hair. If Ed Sheeran joined the army this is what he’d look like, Emilia chuckled to herself as she raised her camera. To her frustration, Shapiro’s blonde bob popped into view, blocking her shot. Nothing for it, Emilia thought, but the direct approach.

  Striding towards him, she called out:

  ‘Richard? Richard Ford?’

  He turned quickly, confused and alarmed by her sudden intrusion. Immediately Emilia fired off three shots. To her surprise, Ford now started marching directly towards her. She backed off, but was too slow – now he was grabbing at her, trying to tear the camera from her. She lashed out with the heel of her boot and prepared to defend herself, but suddenly Ford lurched backwards, dragged away by his irate lawyer.

  ‘You use any of those and we’ll sue,’ she shouted as she marched her client away to safety.

  Like hell you will, Emilia thought to herself, smiling. She had every right to be here and she was very glad she had been.

  She had been hoping to hang Richard Ford out to dry and now she had exactly the pictures she needed to do just that.

  74

  ‘I can’t do anything with her.’

  Steve let Helen in, shutting the front door quietly behind her. Jessica was asleep and the last thing they needed now was an inconsolable toddler.

  ‘I’ve tried to talk to her. To get her to eat something, but …’

  ‘It’s ok. I’ll take it from here.’ Helen laid a comforting arm on his shoulder and quietly mounted the stairs.

  Helen had been to Charlie’s house many times and knew exactly where to go. Ford had been released and had an eight-strong team tracking his every move, so once Helen had checked in with Meredith Walker, her first thought had been for Charlie. She had been keeping a close eye on the Simms family and, knowing her, would take the little girl’s death harder than most.

  Charlie was lying on the bed with her face to the wall. She stirred briefly as Helen entered and, on realizing it was her boss, smiled a brave but washed-out smile. Helen smiled back, sitting on the bed next to her and pushing the door to. The pair of them sat in darkness for a second. Helen sought the right words to begin, but before she could do so, Charlie blurted out:

  ‘I’m not sure I can do this any more. I don’t think I’ve got the strength.’

  Tears threatened. Helen let her finish, then said:

  ‘You’ve had a shock today. We all have. It’s horrible, too horrible, what’s happened. And there’s nothing wrong with feeling like you’re feeling now.’

  ‘She was doing so well, I was so convinced she was going to make it … What’s going to happen to the rest of them now?’

  ‘They’ve got a very long road ahead of them,’ Helen agreed. ‘But they have each other. And things will never look as black for them as they do tonight.’

  There was another pause, then Charlie said:

  ‘I really wanted to come back to work. I wanted to contribute, but I don’t think I’m up to it. I could just about handle what happened today, but this? I’m a bloody mess. I can’t bear it for them …’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘I came back too early. I’m not ready …’

  ‘Do you think you ever would be ready for something like this?’

  It was a good question and for a moment Charlie said nothing.

  ‘You can’t prepare yourself for tragedies like this, nor is there an easy way to deal with them. I’d be very worried if you were able to just shrug them off.’

  Charlie looked up at Helen as she continued:

  ‘You’re a good officer because you care Charlie, not in spite of it. You’re the most determined, committed, honest copper I know. You won’t believe me, I know, but you are and that is why whatever you feel now, you mustn’t give up. Because you’re going to be one of the best police officers this Force has seen.’

  ‘Please –’

  ‘I mean it, so cry your heart out, cry all night if you want to, but I want to see you back in tomorrow fighting fit. The Simms family will need you and we will need you if we’re going to get justice for them. We have to bring their killer to book now.’

  Charlie lowered her head, but didn’t fight back.

  ‘So please don’t give up on me, Charlie.’

  75

  Luke Simms lay in bed, listening intently to the voices in the hall downstairs. He’d heard the key turn in the door, then earnest, fast conversation – he could tell by the deep tone of one of the voices that his father had returned from the hospital. He had rushed off there as soon as he got the call. None of them could believe the news and Luke knew that his father would have to see Alice before he could accept that it was true.

  There was no way Luke could accompany him, so he’d had to stay where he was, laid up in his aunt’s spare room. Mary and her husband had popped in intermittently to check up on him and to offer him some consoling words, but they didn’t really know him and were tongue-tied anyway. So, after a while, he said he’d try to sleep and they’d left him alone.

  But he couldn’t sleep of course. All he could think of was Alice. The games they used to play, the languages they invented, the way she used to fight dirty when they scrapped. She was so much younger than him but had always been mature beyond her years. She often came across as the more sensible of the two – the Grade A student to his football obsessive. She was also a brilliant manipulator, able to wrap their father round her little finger whenever she chose to. Luke had never had that gift and he envied her. For it was just him and his dad now.

  He heard the landing creaking and immediately closed his eyes. Moments later, his door opened gently and he heard his father creep in. He had wanted his father to stay, so he could talk to him, be with him, but now he was back he suddenly felt overwhelmed with the misery of their situation. He didn’t want to add to his dad’s worries so, keeping his eyes closed, he pretended to sleep, working hard to calm his breathing to complete the fiction.

  His father hovered above him, then suddenly leant in, planting a gentle kiss on Luke’s cheek.

  ‘Love you,’ he whispered, his voice quivering as he spoke.

  He rose and Luke heard his footsteps receding as he crept from the room. His father hesitated in the doorway and Luke kept stock still, willing himself not to blow it now. Then his father pulled the door to and Luke was alone once more. He lay there staring at the ceiling, wondering if Alice was at peace.

  As his thoughts turned on his beloved sister, he was startled by a new noise. Somethin
g he’d not heard before in his short life.

  His father, in the room next door, crying his heart out.

  76

  Helen walked briskly away from Charlie’s house. She had left her old friend in a decent place, despite the traumas of the day. Charlie had agreed to rest up and think about things – Helen didn’t want her making any snap decisions that she would come to regret. It was very easy in the heat of the moment to make the wrong call. Better to sleep on it and come again at the problem the following day. Helen hoped she would return to help the team, but she couldn’t be sure. It was a long time since she’d seen Charlie as shaken as this.

  It was all a far cry from the happiness that she, Steve and Helen too had enjoyed in their cosy family home. Jessica’s arrival had transformed all their lives and Helen had enjoyed her role as godparent. She didn’t really do the religious side of things – she had long since given up believing in anything like that – but she took the rest of her duties seriously – buying her toys and books and spoiling her with treats when her parents weren’t looking.

  Helen had no children of her own, had never had younger siblings or nephews and nieces to care for and she had found it an oddly moving experience holding the tiny little girl in her arms. Helen had taken delight in watching Jessica blossom into a cheeky little girl, marvelling at her ability to walk and ‘talk’. Human beings really were little miracles when you thought about it. She had taken plenty of snaps of the growing girl, many of which now decorated her flat, giving the formerly sterile space a sense of life and hope. But the joy they all felt towards her, towards life in general, had been tarnished by recent events. The death of little Alice would stay with them all for a long time.

  A bitter wind was ripping through the city tonight and Helen realized she didn’t have her scarf. Charlie had given it to her this time last year and Helen was vexed now to think that she couldn’t remember where she’d left it. She’d kick herself if she’d lost it for good. She would need it in the days that lay ahead.

  Southampton was now swathed in darkness. Night had settled upon it, bringing with it a distinct air of menace. Helen felt it keenly, as did the many officers who were out on the streets now, keeping a watchful eye for fresh trouble. Helen had pulled every uniformed officer back from leave and even requested auxiliary numbers from neighbouring Forces. Along with the extra fire service resources, it was a big show of strength and Helen hoped that it would be enough to prevent more devastation. Ford was under surveillance, the city was on red alert, everything should be ok.