Clay shrugged. “I suppose so. I wasn’t holding out much hope of it happening, so it was a wonderful surprise. We haven’t set a wedding date yet, though.”
“You would be welcome to have the reception at the club,” Aurelio said softly. “We have a large entertainment room, which would be perfect.” He cleared his throat. “Am I right in saying you wouldn’t have anything that takes place in a church, that you would do the ceremony at the registry office?”
“Absolutely,” Clay said firmly. “No churches will be involved in the making of this marriage.”
The two men sniggered, and then Clay replied, “I’m not sure what we’ll be doing reception wise. My mother and Jax have completely commandeered everything and I have no idea how to rein them in. We haven’t really talked much about the actual wedding. It’s enough he asked me, to be frank, and we’ll get around to the whole getting married thing once we both think it’s time. Thanks for the offer of the club. I appreciate it.”
Clay didn’t think his parents would appreciate their only son getting married in a fetish club. They were liberal and open-minded, but that might be pushing it a little too far. Still, if that’s what he and Tate decided on, his folks would have to live with it. As would Jax.
“This is truly wonderful news, my friend,” Aurelio said quietly. “I know the troubles you and Tate have faced, and the fact he wants this marriage is a real coup for you. Your patience and love have brought you both to this point.”
“As has his resolve and courage to make the journey,” Clay pointed out. “Tate has been through hell, and I swear, when he asked me to marry him, I had bloody tears in my eyes.”
“Pah, you big softy.” Aurelio’s tone was fond and had a touch of something else. A little sadness perhaps? Clay wasn’t sure. “I am overjoyed the two of you have made it official.”
“Thanks, Relio. That means a lot to us. How are things going with your love life, any news on the Tomas front?”
He could almost hear Aurelio’s shrug through the phone. “No news, my friend. We have not been in touch much other than to tie up business matters. I don’t think I’ll be seeing him again.”
Clay still had no idea what had happened between the pair and while he wanted to ask, he wasn’t sure it was his place. He’d try, though. His friend deserved happiness. “Relio, you know you can talk to me, yeah? If you want to go out for a drink one night and tell me what the hell happened between you two, I’ll listen. Even offer advice if I can.”
Aurelio laughed bitterly. “I know you would, and I appreciate it, I assure you. This is something we need to resolve between us, however. Now, tell me, do you believe this woman this afternoon will confess to killing poor JJ?”
Clay recognised a subject changer when it hit him in the face. The rest of the conversation steered away from any mention of Tomas.
When he put the phone down, he made a vow to himself to get to the bottom of what was going on. After all, he was an investigator. And he’d use sneaky tactics if necessary.
Like sending Tate after Tomas to pry the truth out of him.
Clay grinned to himself. Always trust the professionals.
They were called that for a reason.
Chapter 13
The open-plan office at the headquarters of the Bishopsgate Police Station was chaotic. Tate had been stationed in the West London branch of the Metropolitan Police before he’d become an undercover cop. He was used to drunken people throwing up all over the place and the kids hyped up on drugs snarling like rabid dogs and lashing out at any vestige of authority they could find. He remembered the patience of some of the cops as they tried to reason with people picked up for one crime or another, and he recalled the brutality in some of the cases when things hadn’t worked out so well.
He and Clay followed Rick through the craziness, and finally into a narrow corridor off which there were rooms with closed doors. Rick led them into a darker, larger room, where along one wall there was nothing but glass. One-way glass so they could see into the room beyond where right now, Ingrid Vos sat biting her fingernails, trying to project an air of nonchalance that anyone with a little experience in interrogation could see right through.
“She’s got something to hide,” Clay muttered as he stared at her. “It’s written all over her. Getting her down here and into that room has taken her out of her comfort zone, and it’s suddenly getting real to her.”
“You can tell all that from one look?” Rick stared at Clay in grim amusement. “Impressive, old man. I don’t dispute it, though. She’s antsy as all hell. When we wanted to take her fingerprints when she came in the first time for an interview, she refused. It took a little sweet-talking to let us have them. Good on us since we matched her prints to those on the inhaler.” He snorted. “She thinks she’s untouchable. It’s a newbie mistake. When challenged, most people will confess. They aren’t all Hannibal Lecters.”
Tate narrowed his eyes at the woman behind the glass as he removed his bike jacket. It was as hot as Hades in the enclosed room. He swung it over the back of the lonely chair in the corner. “This is the point where the truth needs to come out and the sweet-talking is over.”
Rick nodded. “I’m letting her stew in there a bit before DS Meadham goes in.” As if conjured, DS Carol Meadham walked into the observation room.
“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” she chirped brightly. “Are you here to watch the interview?”
Tate grinned at her. “We are indeed. It’s good to see you again.”
Clay nodded. “DS Meadham. Nice to see you.”
Carol turned to Rick. “I had the team going over the CCTV footage in the area again and we did pick up an image that could be her. Definitely a woman in a large jacket wearing a hat, but nothing positively identifiable. However, she doesn’t know that.” Carol frowned. “All we have going for us are the fingerprints proving she was there. So now we’re certain she lied to us, and we have the few details we gained via the psychic, and Miss Thing’s general unpleasant demeanour. All circumstantial and nothing we can prove or really present in court.” She sighed. “I think we’ll need a confession to solve this one.”
“Don’t worry,” Rick growled. “You’re good at this.”
Clay nodded. “Sometimes letting them hang themselves is a good offensive,” he murmured speculatively. “I don’t think she’s particularly clever or artful. I’m of the mind that what she did, if it turns out she did it, was fuelled by emotion, something that happened because the opportunity was there. She tries hard to be seen as cold and calculating, and yeah, there is an element of that to her, but it’s like an eggshell. She’ll crack if she gets pushed.”
Rick puffed out his cheeks in a breath of exasperation. “That’s my take on her too.” He smiled at Carol Meadham. “I’m hoping you will be the egg breaker.”
She laughed. “I’ll do my best, sir.” She took a file from Rick, turned, and left the observation room.
They watched as the door to the interview room opened and Carol stepped inside with a folder clasped to her chest. She sat down opposite Ingrid, who scowled at her fiercely. Tate hurried to flip on the sound switch so they could hear what was going on.
Carol turned on the recorder, did the whole caution, and waited while Ingrid waived her right to counsel. Carol carried on with the spiel about who was present in the room, and then gave the date and time before she opened the file and went about pretending to peruse it, getting the suspect even more riled up.
Ingrid leaned forward, her lip curled up in a snarl. “Why am I here? I told your people everything I could about JJ’s death. In that I wasn’t even fucking there,” she insisted loudly. Carol continued to study the file without saying a word. Ingrid huffed and sat back, her eyes darting around the room, back down to the hands clasped in her lap, then back up to look over at the policewoman.
“Tell us again about your relationship with JJ Baxter,” Carol asked. “In your own words, please. Take your time.”
The next
half an hour was spent rehashing the stuff they already knew. The breakup, the occasional visits to the shop to visit him, the fact Ingrid hadn’t seen him since they’d broken up, and Ingrid’s absolute insistence that she had nothing to do with his death.
Finally, Carol stood up, strolled around the room thoughtfully, then turned to slam her hand down on the table, making Ingrid Vos rear back in panic.
“Can you explain then, if you weren’t there, why your fingerprints were on the inhaler that JJ used that day?” Carol snapped. “We matched them to the ones you gave us here at the station.”
Ingrid’s mouth opened and closed like a fish. “I didn’t touch anything. I wasn’t there.” Her expression grew hopeful. “’Sides, when we were together, I helped JJ with the inhaler a few times It must have been those fingerprints you’ve matched up.”
“Not bloody likely,” Carol scoffed. “The man had severe asthma. There was no way in hell the same asthma pump you might have touched three months ago would still be working. In fact, we have it on good authority that the pump we found with your fingerprints on it had only been delivered to the shop that morning. How do you explain that? If you weren’t there that day, as you’ve said.”
Ingrid’s face paled. “You must be wrong. I wasn’t there.”
Carol loomed over Ingrid as she stared down at the table. Tate saw the first signs of fear on Ingrid’s face. She was certainly spooked about something. Under the table her fingers clenched and unclenched.
“The police don’t make mistakes,” Carol scoffed. “Certainly not when it comes to something like this. I ask you again, how did your fingerprints get onto that inhaler?”
Ingrid grew more and more agitated as Carol’s probing question played out. She was asking the same questions in a different way, changing the focus and always circling back to try to force the truth. Tate had to hand it to the DS, Ingrid looked bewildered each time Carol phrased the same question differently. Vos was quick to answer, but not consistent. Carol was tripping her up.
“Another thing.” Carol tapped a fingernail against her chin thoughtfully. “You’d said we wouldn’t see you on the CCTV footage, which indicates you’d decided way before you reached that shop that you didn’t want to be seen. Reeks of premeditation, Ms Vos.” She smiled coldly. “Best laid plans and all that didn’t work, though. We found an image of you on the CCTV footage heading straight for the shop right before the time JJ was murdered.” She emphasised the word “murdered.” “As we speak, my team is out canvassing the neighbourhood with your photo asking everyone if they saw a woman fitting your description. So if you bought an energy drink, a packet of smokes, chatted to anyone, or used a public loo, I promise you we’ll find someone who can identify you.”
“She’s good,” Tate murmured to Clay and Rick. “Not lying, but stretching the truth to leverage the suspect.”
“Talking of smokes…” Carol continued her stroll around the room as Ingrid’s gaze followed her every move. “The shop owner confirmed that the day he found JJ’s body, he smelt something that was rather unusual. A fragrance in the air that hadn’t been there the day before.”
Carol sat down and was silent, letting the tension in the room build. Ingrid swallowed and darted a glance at her. They couldn’t see Carol’s face, but Tate imagined she was staring at Ingrid before Carol finally spoke. “I understand you met my fellow investigators Mr Mortimer and Mr Williams the other day. They advised me they’d smelt something in your flat, some sort of vape oil that smelt like grape bubble gum.”
Ingrid started, and shrugged. “So what? Everyone smokes that stuff. How does that matter?”
“Because we purchased the exact same vape you use and took it down to the shop owner. He identified it as being the same odour he’d smelt the day after the murder. Another bit of evidence you were there in the shop.”
Tate knew all this evidence was circumstantial and thin, and he was beginning to worry it wouldn’t be enough. Ingrid didn’t seem to be caving in much. Clay was rooted to the spot next to him, fingers stroking his chin as he watched the people beyond the glass. Rick didn’t take his eyes off his DS, a proud expression on his face as he watched her attempting to demolish the suspect.
Carol got up to take another stroll while ticking off items on her fingers. “So, we have your image on CCTV. It’s only a matter of time before someone confirms they saw you down in the alley. We have the odour of your vape. Distinct, and definitely in the shop the night JJ was murdered. We have your fingerprints on an inhaler that arrived in the shop the same day as JJ was murdered. We have the motive, in that you continued to hound JJ after he broke up with you, plus your attempts to get back together with him coupled with threatening him with death more than once. We have a witness to that.
“You certainly had the opportunity. You don’t have an alibi and we have substantial evidence that tell us you were definitely there that day.” She gave a grim smile. “I think I have enough to charge you with his murder.”
Tate didn’t think there was enough, but he knew Carol was playing Vos. All it was going to take was a little more goading.
“You couldn’t get over the fact he’d moved on without you, could you?” Carol mused as she walked behind Ingrid, whose face had turned a blotchy red.
Tate grinned when Carol spoke again. And here it comes…
“JJ managed to find himself a new girlfriend, one who probably gave him all the stuff you couldn’t give him.” Carol leaned down, close to Ingrid’s ear. “How did that make you feel? Being replaced by someone else?”
Ingrid turned to glare at the policewoman, almost jumping out of her chair.
“JJ never fucking replaced me. He didn’t appreciate me, and that bitch he was seeing could never have been what I was to him. We were soul mates and he decided that other little tramp was what he wanted.”
“He was in love with that little tramp, Ingrid,” Carol said. “His boss said they talked all the time, had loads of plans for the future…” She trailed off and raised her palms. “Seems they were truly in love.”
Ingrid slammed the table with her fist. Not once, but twice. “Don’t say that. He wasn’t in love with her. He was still in love with me. I needed to make him see that, don’t you understand?” Her eyes were wild, mouth taut with anger. “I needed to talk to him, tell him we were much better together.”
Carol nodded. “I can understand that. It’s tough when you need to say something, and the other person won’t listen. I’ve been through that myself. Makes you pretty mad.” The sympathetic expression on her face was masterful. Tate decided there and then he’d never want to play poker with the woman.
Ingrid nodded fiercely. “He needed to know that we were the ones meant to be together, not that little slut he was seeing. I tried to explain that, but he didn’t fucking listen. He wouldn’t return my calls. He kept fobbing me off. I couldn’t stand it anymore. I had to see him.”
Tate’s breath hitched, watching Ingrid unravel before his eyes. “She’s going to do it,” he whispered to Rick and Clay. “She’s going to tell Carol the truth.”
Carol squeezed Ingrid’s shoulder gently. “As a woman who’s been through it before, I understand how hurtful it can be to have the man you love tell you he no longer wants you,” she murmured. “And I understand how angry you must have been, knowing he was with her, loving up on her, and not you.”
Ingrid’s eyes shone fervently. “Exactly. The last time I spoke to him, he said they were thinking of moving in together. I couldn’t let him get away with that, could I? It was so damn final.” Her mouth twisted in a smile that made Tate’s spine tingle unpleasantly. “I had to see him, and I knew he’d be at the shop. He was always at that damned shop, or down in the alley. I think she stayed there somewhere, the bitch.”
Ingrid hesitated, and Tate thought, shit, she’s pulling back. Then…
“I’d been there enough to know the back door doesn’t always close completely, so I snuck in to surprise him.” Her eyes b
lazed. “He was about to leave, and I told him he wasn’t going anywhere. His stupid asthma flared up while we were arguing, and he tried to use his inhaler.” She shrugged. “I think when he tried to get out the door, I pushed him down to the floor. I don’t really remember.” Her face went still. “The damn inhaler rolled away. He was lying there, looking up at me. I sat on him so he couldn’t go anywhere. I told him he needed to listen to me.” She shimmied her shoulders, as if to square herself with righteousness. “After a while, he went quiet and I thought he’d passed out so I took that stupid toy cock and pushed it in his mouth, because obviously, he was being led around by his dick by that slut, and not his heart.” Ingrid smirked. “It was poetic justice, I thought.”
Tate, Clay, and Rick shook their heads at the matter-of-fact account.
“I thought he’d get up,” Ingrid muttered. “I didn’t think he was dead.” She hunched forward, head on her elbows, but Tate saw no trace of tears. “I didn’t mean to kill him. I thought he’d get up…”
Carol’s frosty tone brought Ingrid’s head up. “You broke JJ’s ribs, Ingrid. He was bruised and had finger marks on his body. You compressed his chest as he was having an asthma attack and killed him.” She shook her head. “I have no sympathy for you. And I doubt a jury will either.”
Tate watched as Carol read the killer her rights and slapped the handcuffs on. Carol went to the door and called for the policeman stationed outside the interrogation room to take the woman to book the woman for murder.
When Carol came into the observation room, Rick burst into excited congratulations. “That was exceptionally well done, DS Meadham,” he said with a huge smile. “I couldn’t have done better myself.”
“Neither could I,” murmured Clay. “Remind me never to get on your bad side.” He reached out and shook Carol’s hand.
The policewoman beamed. “Thank you. Questioning a suspect is often knowing which buttons to push. Hers was the other woman. I’m going to get a search warrant for her place to see if we can find any further evidence about that day. JJ’s mobile phone perhaps since it was never found. It might not prove anything but then again, it might.”
Death By C*ck (Fetish Alley Book 2) Page 16
