Double Dealing (Detective Sergeant Catherine Bishop Series Book Two)

by Lisa Hartley

  ‘Why wouldn’t she?’

  ‘Do you read the local newspaper, Mr Worthy? Watch the news?’

  ‘When I have the time.’

  ‘So you know the body of a young woman has been found?’

  ‘Yes, Keeley Pearce. Alex told me you were asking about her. She didn’t last long at Worthy and Son, I’m afraid. Some people just don’t seem to want to work. I haven’t seen her since she walked out.’

  Catherine raised her eyes to the ceiling as Kendrick frowned. ‘Walked out of where?’

  ‘My office. I’d just told her we were letting her go.’

  ‘I thought she was providing some sickness cover?’

  ‘She was supposed to be, but she wasn’t even capable of that.’ Worthy shook his head in disgust. ‘We didn’t want her sort.’

  ‘Keeley Pearce died of a drug overdose.’ Kendrick’s eyes were fixed on Worthy’s face. The other man’s expression didn’t change, though his cheeks flushed a little. He pulled a white handkerchief out of his trouser pocket and wiped his face.

  ‘That’s sad, Chief Inspector, but I’m not sure what it has to do with me. I don’t employ people who use drugs.’

  Catherine snorted and Kendrick let out a chuckle. ‘Keeley didn’t have a drug habit, Mr Worthy. She died when one of the many packets of cocaine she was carrying in her stomach burst.’

  Worthy stared at him, his jaw working. ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘It means she’d been employed as a drug mule, paid to carry cocaine secretly into the country.’

  Out came the handkerchief again, and Worthy took his time formulating a reply.

  ‘Again, this has nothing to do with me.’

  ‘Can you fly, Mr Worthy?’ Catherine asked. He glanced at her.

  ‘Not without an aircraft, Sergeant Bishop.’ He gave a nervous titter, then swallowed a few times. ‘Yes, yes I have a licence. It’s all up to date, I assure you.’

  ‘I’m sure it is. Do you pilot planes?’

  ‘Mostly microlights these days. They’re cheaper to run.’ He attempted a smile.

  ‘Interesting. And the cost is a factor, is it?’

  ‘Well, yes. We all have to watch what we spend these days.’ Worthy blinked a few times and ran a hand over his balding head.

  ‘Especially when your business is struggling?’ Kendrick enquired, his tone friendly. Worthy glared at him.

  ‘Now, just a second …’

  ‘Are you denying that your company is in trouble?’ Kendrick pressed.

  ‘It’s not doing as well as in previous years I admit, but it’s not struggling.’

  ‘You can see why we’ve brought you in?’

  He glanced from Kendrick to Catherine. ‘I’ve no idea.’

  ‘Let me spell it out. You have access to people who are struggling for money. Your own business could do with a cash injection. You fly planes, small planes that could sneak in and out of the country undetected. A woman who was employed by you dies, and another woman, also employed by you, is missing. We have a witness who states that Keeley Pearce was offered the chance to earn some money as a drug mule by someone at your company. Are you beginning to see our reasoning?’

  Worthy’s eyes were wide, his face pale. ‘It’s nonsense.’

  ‘Who are you working with?’ Catherine asked now. ‘Alex? We know he can fly too. There would need to be two of you to have carried Keeley down the path to where you left her. Two men were also seen with Lauren Cook just before she disappeared.’

  Worthy gulped. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. Anyway, there are lots of people who can pilot planes around here.’ He hesitated, then a look of cunning crossed his face. ‘Perhaps I could help you after all …’

  There was tap on the door and Simon Sullivan stuck his head into the room. ‘Can I have a word please, Ma’am?’

  45

  Maybe when they had to stop at traffic lights he could jump out? No, that wouldn’t work. Too risky.

  ‘How did you know where I was?’ he asked, finding as he spoke that he didn’t much care. Chances were he wouldn’t live to see the morning anyway, so what did it matter? The other man laughed.

  ‘There’s an app on your mobile that I can use to track you. Haven’t you seen it?’

  He shrugged. ‘I hardly use my phone.’

  ‘No, not blessed with friends, are you?’

  ‘I used to be.’

  ‘Whatever you say. Should have turned your mobile off anyway.’ He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, smiling to himself.

  ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘Do you really want to know?’

  They were driving along the side of the River Trent, the blackness of the treacherous waters flowing below them. He turned his head and stared out at the darkened sky. It was bright and clear, thousands of stars visible. It would freeze tonight.

  ‘To see the boss?’

  ‘Well, he is keen to hear your explanation for your top secret trip to the railway station. You’ve got a date first though.’

  He closed his eyes.

  ‘A date?’

  ‘Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten about Lauren?’ Fat chance. He couldn’t stop thinking about her, alone and no doubt freezing. ‘Look on the bright side,’ his companion continued. ‘She’ll be half-dead already.’

  ‘Great,’ he mumbled, opening his eyes and fixing them on the road ahead.

  ‘Makes your life a lot easier. I’ve even brought you some rope.’

  ‘Rope?’

  ‘Look, I understand stabbing someone’s a big ask. Strangulation though, you don’t even need to look at her, you just keep on pulling.’

  He almost laughed. ‘Much easier then.’

  They were approaching the police station now. He felt the bile in his mouth again, the sense of his life disappearing before him. Stupid. Stupid and pathetic. Why was he sitting here, allowing himself to be driven like this, as passive as a child? Why had he even got into the car? He swallowed as an idea crawled into his mind. It was ridiculous, suicide, but it had to better than being a murderer. It all depended on chance now though.

  He slid his left hand from his lap to the side of his leg, careful not to make any sudden movements, then held his breath. The other man hadn’t noticed. He was whistling again, irritating and tuneless.

  Another second passed before he made a similar movement with his right hand, allowing it to hover near his trouser pocket. It was out of his control now. He stared at the traffic, hoping, willing it.

  And then it happened.

  The car in front of them braked, then halted. A few people were waiting to cross the road at a pelican crossing fifty meters or so away. Swearing, his companion brought their car to an abrupt standstill. He gulped and moved, knowing he had seconds to act. His left hand snaked out and grabbed the door handle just as his right released his seatbelt. When the door flung open, the other man grabbed his wrist, yelling, ‘What the fuck are you playing at?’ He yanked away, tumbling onto the pavement hard on his hands and knees. His palms burned as he scrambled to his feet. The driver stared at him for a second, then shook his head. ‘You’re a dead man,’ he snarled, wrenching off his own seatbelt.

  Move! he told himself, and started to run. The police station was a couple of hundred metres away. If he made it, even if he reached the pavement outside, he’d be safe.

  His bruised knees screamed out as he pounded along, his cheap plimsolls allowing every stone to punch painfully into the soles of his feet. He could hear the grunts of the other man pursuing him.

  He kept running, dodging an elderly man walking a Jack Russell, skirting round a group of laughing teenagers. One girl shouted, ‘My mate fancies you!’ as he ran by. Their giggles rang in his ears as his breathing became laboured. He was slowing, a stitch burning his body, his saliva thick and choking.

  He held a hand to his side, panting. Why was he so unfit? He was jogging now, limping along, willing his aching knees to move a little faster. He couldn’t hear
the other man – had he given up?

  There was a squeal of tyres behind him, and a theatrical scream rose from the gang of teenagers as the car he had just escaped from accelerated up the road, its engine roaring. The rest of the group cheered, waving their hands in the air like football supporters whose team have just scored a goal. He covered his face with his hands. At least the other man didn’t have a gun – or did he? He waited for the crack, the pain.

  Nothing happened. The car flew past as he stood there panting, its lights disappearing around the corner. He swallowed again, tasting blood on his tongue. The police station stood in front of him, a few lights flickering. He wanted to turn and run again but he knew what he had to do. Glancing up at the stars again for a second, he turned and began to limp down the path.

  He tried to push open the door, but it held fast, and he stared stupidly at it before noticing the sign. The police station was closed.

  He let out a roar of frustration. What now? He could call 999, but that didn’t seem right. Turning back to the station door, he spotted the out-of-hours number. Without giving himself time to think, he tapped it into his phone and waited until a pleasant-sounding male voice answered. He panted that he was outside Northolme police station and that he had important information regarding a missing woman.

  46

  Mark Cook sat seething as Celia flicked the TV onto yet another soap opera. Why were they still here? It was obvious that Lauren wasn’t coming back, so why didn’t they pack their things and piss off?

  Geoff stood up and smiled at Mark. ‘Think I’ll put the kettle on.’

  Mark watched him leave the room and then followed him into the kitchen.

  ‘How are you bearing up?’ Geoff asked as he took the milk out of the fridge. Mark shrugged.

  ‘Okay. I just wish Lauren would let us know what’s happening.’

  Geoff stroked a hand over his beard and said, ‘You think she’s left you.’ It wasn’t a question.

  ‘There’s no other explanation, is there? The police would have found her by now otherwise. It’s been over a week, she obviously wants to stay away.’

  Geoff winced as Celia’s voice rang out in the other room, telling someone on the screen they were ‘a bloody fool if you take him back.’

  ‘Why don’t we go down to the police station now?’ Mark suggested. Geoff looked at him, surprised. ‘Just one last time. If they send us away again, that’s it, I’ll assume Lauren’s left me and start trying to move on.’

  ‘Won’t they be closed by now?’

  ‘I don’t know. Surely there’ll be someone around?’

  Geoff thought about it, then nodded. ‘It’s got to be worth a try. All right. I’ll tell Celia we’re nipping out for a pint.’

  Celia’s eyes didn’t leave the screen, she just waved a hand in her husband’s direction. Geoff smiled to himself and closed the door.

  ‘Come on then,’ he called to Mark.

  ‘Are you okay to drive?’ Mark asked, shrugging on his coat. ‘God knows when we’ll get our car back.’

  ‘Of course. If they can’t help us, Celia and I will leave tonight, I promise.’

  Mark smiled in spite of it all. ‘Putting your foot down?’

  Geoff managed a laugh as they left the house and stepped out into the cold air. ‘I’m not sure I’d go that far.’

  In the corridor, Catherine waited.

  ‘What is it, Si?’

  ‘I thought you’d want to know – John Worthy owns a house in the middle of town, smack bang in the area where we lost both Keeley and Lauren’s phone signals.’

  She beamed at him. ‘Brilliant, thanks. I think the DCI’s got him on the ropes already.’

  Sullivan grimaced. ‘I wouldn’t want him interviewing me.’

  ‘Worthy’s none too keen either. A search warrant for this house you’ve found and we might just have him.’ Catherine smiled.

  They heard hurried feet approaching and PC Nathan Collins turned the corner.

  ‘DS Bishop, I’ve been looking for you.’

  ‘What’s up, Nathan?’

  ‘We’ve had a call from Headquarters. They say that there’s a bloke here wanting to talk to someone – he told them he knows where Lauren Cook is.’

  ‘He’s here?’ Catherine frowned.

  ‘Standing outside the main door.’

  She stared at him for a second, then began to run.

  ‘Tell the DCI, Si,’ she called over her shoulder. ‘Come with me, Nathan.’

  They raced down the dark, echoing corridor, the lights above them suddenly glowing as their movement was sensed.

  ‘What else did they tell you?’ Catherine gasped.

  ‘Nothing. I thought you’d want to talk to him straight away.’

  They ran out into the car park, their breath dancing around their faces in the chill night air. When they rounded the corner of the looming building, they saw him standing there, his shoulders hunched against the cold in his thin jacket. Catherine slowed to a brisk walk as he turned to face them, tears coursing down his cheeks.

  ‘Sergeant Bishop,’ he croaked. ‘I’m sorry.’

  She stared at him, not understanding, trying to work out what they’d missed.

  ‘Do you know where Lauren is? Is she okay?’ she demanded.

  He straightened his back, wiped his hands over his face and finally met her eyes. ‘We’ll have to be quick.’

  ‘Nathan, we need a squad car.’

  47

  Geoff adhered to the speed limits, keeping a strict two car lengths between himself and the vehicle in front. In the passenger seat, Mark was biting his nails in frustration. He’d forgotten about Geoff’s driving style - it would have been quicker to walk. Geoff’s car was less than a year old, top of the range, and deserved a driver who knew how to handle it. Mark’s palms itched as he thought about offering to take the wheel.

  ‘We take a left here, don’t we?’ Geoff asked.

  ‘Yeah, then the next right.’ Mark tapped his fingers on his knees. ‘I’m not sure if they’ll be open by now though.’

  Geoff didn’t take the hint, slowing down even more as a jogger approached a pedestrian crossing, then changed his mind and ran on. Mark sighed.

  After another minute or so dragged by, Geoff’s mobile phone began to ring in his pocket. Mark hid a smile as his father-in-law’s eyes searched for a safe place to stop.

  ‘I’d better answer, it’ll be Celia. Maybe Lauren’s been in touch.’

  He indicated and pulled in at the side of the road while Mark bit back a smart reply. He doubted it somehow.

  ‘Blues and twos?’ PC Natalie Roberts asked again as she gunned the engine.

  ‘Definitely,’ Catherine replied, leaning forward and hitting the button to start the siren and flashing lights. The car leapt forward, onto the main road. Catherine turned in her seat, glaring over her shoulder at Dan Raynor who slumped in the back, his grazed hands now cuffed in front of him.

  ‘So tell me how you fit in,’ she demanded. ‘I can’t think you’re in charge.’

  Raynor squirmed. ‘No, I’m not.’

  ‘Well?’ Catherine barked. Natalie executed a sharp left turn and Catherine grabbed the seat for support. Dan wasn’t so lucky and was flung to the side, hitting the car door next to him with a thud.

  ‘Sorry about that,’ Nat muttered. When Dan managed to right himself, Catherine leaned closer.

  ‘Look, Dan, if you want to help yourself, you need to start talking. You’ve made the right decision in coming to us, but now we need all the information you can give us.’

  ‘I just want to make sure Lauren’s okay,’ he sniffed. ‘None of this was meant to happen, no one was supposed to get hurt.’

  ‘Yeah, well someone did.’ Catherine’s tone was brutal and Dan shrank back against the seat. ‘Because you were greedy, because your wages weren’t enough for you, Keeley Pearce is dead and Lauren Cook probably isn’t far off, if she isn’t there already. Tell me who’s in charge, Dan.’
>
  He was crying again, tears and snot mingling on his face as he raised both shackled hands to try to wipe the mess away. Catherine sighed, exasperated. Glancing over the top of Raynor’s head she could see another squad car in hot pursuit, with Nathan Collins behind the wheel and Kendrick’s bulk filling the passenger seat. In the back were most of the rest of the team: Anna, Dave and Simon. Knight was still absent and no one seemed to know where he’d gone. Chris Rogers and more uniformed officers were also on their way, as well as an ambulance. Catherine gritted her teeth.

  ‘Tell us what we’re dealing with here, Dan,’ she urged. ‘Are your friends going to be waiting for us? Will they be armed? John Worthy’s out of action, locked in a cell back at the station, so you don’t need to worry about him.’

  Dan looked puzzled. ‘Mr Worthy?’

  Catherine clung on again as the car lurched to the right. They were out of town now, heading into the quiet country roads that surrounded Northolme. Hedgerows flew by, illuminated every second or so by the wheeling blue lights.

  ‘Two miles, Sarge,’ Natalie said, her jaw clenched in concentration.

  ‘Why have you locked Mr Worthy up?’ Dan whinged, his voice that of a confused child. Catherine glared at him.

  ‘Because he’s behind all this, isn’t he?’

  Confused, Dan shook his head.

  Mark watched as Geoff pulled his mobile out of his cardigan pocket. It was a battered old thing; Lauren had often teased him about it, asking when he was going to get a smartphone, and Geoff had just smiled. Checking the display, Geoff frowned a little and lifted it to his ear. Mark could hear an agitated male voice, though he couldn’t make out what was being said. He glanced at Geoff, whose expression had changed, his skin seeming paler than it had before. Mark held his breath – not more bad news? He knew Geoff had an elderly aunt that he worried about.

  ‘I’m on my way. You’ll get there first - you know what to do.’

  Geoff shoved the phone back in his pocket and stamped on the accelerator. Mark’s head was thrown back and he gripped the door handle, fear pitting his stomach.

  ‘Okay, Geoff?’