Murder Ring (A DI Geraldine Steel Mystery)

by Leigh Russell

  Geraldine picked up a takeaway on her way home and sat at her kitchen table eating fish and chips out of the paper with her fingers, while listening to Lenny’s second interview again. Although his repeated insistence that he was telling the truth made his story sound dodgy, she couldn’t spot any inconsistencies to suggest he was lying. On the contrary, his account was plausible and fitted his history of petty house burglary. As far as they knew he had never resorted to violence in the past, and had never been known to use a gun. In fact, his account of robbing a dead man he had stumbled upon by chance actually matched his profile as an opportunistic thief. It seemed quite possible he was telling the truth.

  She had arranged to visit her older sister in Kent the following day. The two of them had been brought up together after Geraldine had been adopted by Celia’s natural parents. Not particularly close as children, they had developed a more intimate relationship following the death of their mother a couple of years previously. Geraldine hadn’t been down to Kent for at least a month and was looking forward to seeing her sister and her niece again.

  It was a relief to be driving away from London and the claustrophobic demands of the case. A fine drizzle began to fall as she drove along the Old Kent Road. It wasn’t a bad journey, and she arrived half an hour before dinner. Celia was always pleased to see her and welcomed her with a broad grin. As soon as they were inside, Geraldine looked at her sister appraisingly.

  ‘Not showing yet,’ she said, smiling.

  It was difficult to tell as Celia’s figure was concealed beneath an embroidered smock top. Celia pulled the fabric tight across her belly and Geraldine shook her head.

  ‘No,’ she said, ‘if you hadn’t told me you were expecting, I wouldn’t be able to tell.’

  Celia laughed. ‘Call yourself a detective! The bump is the clue! Come on, I’ll show you how we’re getting on here.’

  Celia was having the house decorated and Geraldine was given a tour of the rooms that had been finished. She traipsed round the house after her sister, making appropriate noises of approval.

  ‘This is going to be the nursery,’ Celia said, showing off a room freshly painted in light yellow. A white cot with yellow ducklings painted on the end stood ready. ‘I know it’s a bit small, but we’ll probably move now there’s going to be four of us in the family.’

  ‘It’s a lovely room.’

  ‘Do you really think so? What about the colour? Do you think the baby will like it?’

  Geraldine had to restrain herself from saying what she really thought.

  ‘I’m sure the baby will love it.’

  ‘I can’t help feeling scared,’ Celia admitted when they were back in the kitchen.

  ‘What are you afraid of? It’s not like this is your first.’

  ‘I’m forty-two, Geraldine.’

  ‘So? You’ve done it before.’

  ‘I know, but I was a lot younger then. The older you are, the more likely there are to be complications, and –’

  Geraldine was as reassuring as she could be, given that they were discussing something of which she had no experience.

  ‘What about you?’ Celia asked. ‘I mean, have you done anything more to trace your birth mother?’

  ‘Well, not really. I called the social worker who was dealing with my enquiry and managed to contact the person who has taken over from the original case worker. She promised to get in touch…’

  ‘So no news then?’

  Geraldine shrugged. She had been through this before. Her birth mother had consistently refused to meet her. Celia clearly didn’t understand why she persisted in trying to contact her mother. Even Geraldine was no longer sure why she carried on.

  ‘I’ll probably give up,’ Geraldine admitted. ‘She’s made it clear she doesn’t want to see me.’

  ‘It’s sad,’ Celia replied, ‘but there’s no point in beating yourself up about it. At least you tried.’

  They had finished drinking tea by the time Celia’s daughter, Chloe, returned home from a friend’s house. She ran up to Geraldine and hugged her. With Celia looking on, smiling, Geraldine felt a pang of gratitude. She ought to appreciate her family more. Sometimes she felt it was an unfair intrusion on her time, having to go and visit them. Their pleasure on seeing her seemed out of all proportion to what she could offer them. It was chance, not even an accident of birth, that had brought her into their lives at all. If her own birth mother hadn’t given her up for adoption, she would never have met Celia. It seemed strange that so random a circumstance had tied them to one another for life. She wondered if David Lester had died as the result of a similarly random encounter with the man arrested for his murder, or whether there was more to the case than anyone yet realised.

  30

  JACK WHISTLED CHEERFULLY. Even though his room wasn’t well lit, he could see how the tailored fit of his new black shirt showed off his toned body. Turning sideways, he examined his profile. At last he stopped scrutinising his reflection and gave a satisfied smile. He had worked hard to achieve the right image. Theo was captivated by the way Jack’s mirror tipped forwards and backwards in its polished wooden frame. He loved to stand in front of it, shifting the angle of his reflection.

  ‘You keep playing with my things, you’re going to break something,’ Jack would shout at him. ‘I told you before, stay out of my room.’

  Theo would just shake his head, aping Jack’s frown. In the end Jack had fitted a lock on his bedroom door to keep Theo out. If Rosa noticed it, she hadn’t commented. Absorbed in admiring himself, Jack didn’t hear his door open. Without warning Theo’s face appeared in the mirror, hovering above Jack’s right shoulder.

  ‘Bloody hell, Theo, you give me a fright. What you doing creeping up behind me like that?’

  Theo chuckled. ‘Bloody hell, bloody hell, bloody hell,’ he crooned under his breath. ‘Nice, nice, nice shirt,’ he added. He patted Jack’s arm as though he was petting an animal.

  Jack turned to him. ‘You know there’s times you almost make sense. And yes, it is a nice shirt. A bloody nice shirt.’

  ‘Nice shirt,’ Theo repeated, ‘bloody nice shirt.’

  He put his head on one side as though he was thinking, then ran from the room to reappear a moment later holding out his anorak. Jack shook his head. Theo always knew when his brother was going out.

  ‘You’re like a bleeding dog. Well, I ain’t taking you for no walk, not tonight I ain’t. I’m off to see my girl and there ain’t no room for you. Now bugger off out my room.’

  Theo watched intently as Jack finished preening himself, then scurried out of the room after him. While Jack was locking his door and pocketing the key, Theo struggled to put on his jacket. His face screwed up in concentration, he succeeded in thrusting both his arms into his sleeves.

  ‘Come on, come on,’ he sang, followed by some tuneless gibberish about Jack.

  ‘You ain’t coming along with me,’ Jack said, ‘and that’s that.’

  ‘That that that that that.’

  ‘Shut it, you bleeding parrot.’

  Whistling softly, he walked to the front door, Theo still at his side.

  ‘You ain’t coming with me, bro.’

  He placed a hand flat on Theo’s chest and gently pushed him away. Theo stood firm, grinning. Angered, Jack shoved him roughly until he began to whimper.

  ‘Jesus, I said you’re like a dog, don’t mean you got to make a noise like a bleeding dog. Just shut it, will you? I can’t take you out because I’m going to see my girl. Now get away from me, I’m going out. And no following me this time. Oh bloody hell. Leave it out, will you? Ma! Ma!’

  Rosa appeared in the doorway of her bedroom, her eyes frowsy with sleep.

  ‘What you want now?’ she moaned. ‘I’m trying to have a rest. Can’t you watch him for a bit? You’re never here and I can’t shut my eyes for a minute without him running off.’

  ‘Get him away from the door, will you? He ain’t coming out with me.’

  �
��Where you off to now?’

  ‘Going to see a friend.’

  Rosa called to Theo that it was time for supper but he didn’t budge.

  ‘I said get over here. Look what I got for you!’

  She shuffled over to the squashy football lying on the floor in the middle of the room and picked it up. ‘Here.’ She offered it to Theo who didn’t move. She dropped it on the carpet.

  ‘Bloody hell, it’s lost all its bounce,’ she complained. ‘And he plays so nice with it. Keeps him busy for hours, only now it’s all out of air.’

  ‘I said I’d get him a new one, and I ain’t forgot about it,’ Jack replied. ‘But only if he plays with it. You want a new ball, Theo? You go play with that one then. Let’s see how nice you play.’

  Theo glanced indecisively from Jack to the ball and back again.

  ‘Come on, then, come and get it,’ Rosa coaxed him.

  As Theo stepped towards her, Jack was out of the door, double locking it from outside so his brother couldn’t follow him. Jack was off to see Sophia, and he was in a good mood. He wouldn’t stand for competition. She was his girl, and that was the end of it. He knew it, and soon she was going to know it too. Whatever she thought, she wasn’t up for grabs. He leapt into his car and sped out of the side street, heading for her flat. Everything was going to be fine, just as long as she was his girl. That was all that mattered. She felt the same way about him. She just didn’t know it yet.

  31

  GERALDINE RECALLED AS many cases as she could where suspects had held out for hours or even weeks before confessing their guilt. It wasn’t unusual. Insisting on their innocence was, understandably, the first defence of the guilty. She hoped that would prove to be true for Lenny. Rigorously, she followed the procedures, aware of Sam fuming impatiently at her side, while the plump lawyer sat silently watching her, his eyes half-closed. If he hadn’t interjected from time to time with a laconic reminder that his client had already answered her question, she would have suspected he wasn’t following the interview at all. When they took a break, she wasn’t surprised that Sam was irritated.

  ‘That wretch is lying through his teeth. We know he was there. He admits as much. Why can’t he just come clean and save us all a whole load of bother. Yes, I was there, yes, I already told you I robbed the guy, and yes, obviously I shot him. That’s all he has to say. Why drag it out like this? He’ll never get off.’

  Not for the first time, Geraldine wondered if Sam was in the right career. Gutsy, dogged, and highly intelligent, in some ways she was ideally suited to the job, but she was also impulsive and far too ready to jump to conclusions.

  ‘Like it or not, the burden of proof is on us,’ she said, ‘and right now we can’t prove Lenny shot the victim. Being in the same place as the murder doesn’t mean he pulled the trigger.’

  They had been over the same ground repeatedly. As Sam launched into another rant, Geraldine’s phone vibrated. It wasn’t a work call. If the phone had buzzed while they were in the interview room she would have ignored it. As it was, she glanced at the screen. A caller on an unknown number had left a message. She hesitated, but it was time to go back and have another session with Lenny.

  ‘Come on then,’ she said, putting her phone away.

  ‘Let’s hope he stops whingeing and starts telling it how it is,’ Sam answered, as she followed Geraldine back into the interview room.

  After they had finished with Lenny for the day, Geraldine discussed the stalemate with Adam. He agreed to sanction a thorough search of the flat where Lenny lived with Gina and of his mother’s home and the car repair yard where he had been hiding. If they found his gun, with his prints on it, the case against him would be watertight. After a quick supper, Geraldine drove to Acton to see how the search was going there. She had a feeling Lenny’s mother knew more than she was letting on. Her flat was so crammed with bric-a-brac it would be the perfect place to hide something relatively small like a gun or a ring. Coming across the ring wasn’t quite so important, since Lenny had admitted he had stolen one from David. Finding the gun would wrap the case up.

  Geraldine could hear a woman screeching as soon as she stepped out of her car. Cynthia was standing by the front door, red-faced with the effort of shouting, thick veins bulging in her neck.

  ‘Bloody hell, she’s going to burst a blood vessel if she goes on like that,’ a constable muttered to Geraldine. ‘She’s giving me a ruddy headache. Can’t you shut her up?’

  ‘Get on with your job and stop moaning,’ Geraldine chided him with a grin. ‘Found anything yet?’

  ‘Plenty of dodgy gear, but not what we’re looking for.’

  ‘Don’t you bloody tell me any of my stuff’s dodgy,’ Cynthia burst out. ‘It’s all been paid for, fair and square. I could do you for all them lies you been saying, ever since you got here. I ain’t no fucking thief!’

  ‘Not a thief, just a fence,’ someone answered cheerfully.

  ‘Don’t you start on again about my boy,’ Cynthia retorted. ‘He’s as honest as the day’s long. I know he was framed last time he was sent down, and I know it was you lot what done that to him. I’m getting a lawyer on to you and you’ll all go down. Nothing worse than a bent cop. You just wait. All your pictures in the papers, see how you like it.’

  ‘We won’t hold our breath, love.’

  ‘Wish she’d hold hers,’ another constable called out.

  Geraldine eyed up the stout woman shouting obscenities, before interrupting her invective. ‘If you don’t keep quiet, I’ll have you for obstructing the police in the course of their duties.’

  Cynthia turned and glared at her. ‘Or what?’

  ‘I don’t think you heard what I said. If you don’t shut up and let my team get on with the job, you’ll find yourself nicked for obstruction.’

  ‘You like locking up innocent members of the public, don’t you, you self-important cow. Think you’re clever, don’t you?’

  Seemingly delighted to have found a target, Cynthia latched on to Geraldine with a new string of obscenities.

  ‘This is your last warning,’ Geraldine said when the other woman paused for breath. ‘One more word out of you and I’ll have you removed from the property.’

  Cynthia grumbled, but quietly this time and Geraldine left soon after. The team had found nothing yet. They would continue all night if necessary, searching outside in the morning. Geraldine was in bed setting the alarm on her phone when she noticed the voicemail that had been left earlier on her private phone. Not recognising the number she listened to the message, expecting it to be a wrong number. The caller introduced herself as Louise who had taken over from Sandra, the social worker who had been in charge of Geraldine’s adoption file. Her next words shivered through Geraldine like an electric shock.

  ‘We need to talk about your mother.’

  32

  THAT NIGHT, GERALDINE lay awake for hours. She tried to focus her thoughts on the case, but it was impossible. Over the years she had learned to accept that it was best to try not to think about her birth mother. Gradually, her raging curiosity had faded until she had become resigned to the fact that she was never going to meet her mother. With the social worker’s call, her visceral longing returned, sweeping all her mature deliberations aside in an instant. It was possible her mother was finally willing to meet the daughter she had abandoned all those years ago. Milly had been a teenager when she had given birth to Geraldine. She would be middle-aged now. Circumstances impossible to deal with at sixteen might seem very different with the benefit of maturity. There could be any number of reasons why she might want to meet her daughter after so long.

  It was equally possible the social worker had called Geraldine to inform her of her mother’s death. That would be hard to bear. Even though Geraldine would be no worse off than she had been with a stranger who steadfastly refused to meet her, she would have lost the hope of ever being reconciled with her birth mother. Not knowing the reason for the social worker’s call was
agonising. A few hours made no real difference after so many years but, after hearing the message, having to wait a whole night felt unbearable. She wished she had answered her phone when Louise had rung, or at least had listened to the message during working hours, so that she could have returned the call straight away.

  After sleeping fitfully, she was up early so she went straight to work, arriving before the traffic built up. It was too early to speak to the social worker but she returned her call anyway, and left a message. ‘Please call me as soon as you get this.’ Almost in tears, she could hear her own voice shaking. There was nothing more she could do. She turned to her screen and realised that Neil had walked past without her noticing. He was sitting at his desk, watching her curiously.

  ‘Is everything all right?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, thanks. It was nothing to do with work.’

  ‘I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not. Oh sorry,’ he added when Geraldine didn’t respond, ‘you’re telling me to mind my own business.’

  ‘That’s OK,’ she muttered, keeping her eyes on her screen. ‘Now if you don’t mind, I need to crack on.’

  ‘Of course.’

  Geraldine knew her colleague was only being friendly. It was her own fault that he had overheard her pleading for a quick response. She wondered what he must think of her, and resolved to guard against such unprofessional conduct in future while she was at work. It must have sounded as though she had rowed with a boyfriend. Stifling a sigh, she tried her best to focus on her work. It didn’t help that she had to work her way through a list of tedious expenses claims.