Ten Guilty Men (A DCI Morton Crime Novel Book 3)

by Sean Campbell

  ‘Fifty people,’ Ayala guessed.

  ‘Two hundred signed in today. It’s obvious what’s going on, but the staff turn a blind eye.’

  ‘Right. You sign in for Gabby. She signs in for you. Did you sign her in today?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘But she’s not here,’ Ayala said. ‘So where is she?’

  The girl shrugged. ‘No idea, sorry. We sit next to each other, and our row signs off our whole group so we don’t get dinged on the percentages. I imagine she’s hung over or something.’

  ‘She’s not at home. Do you have any idea where she might go if not to class?’

  ‘The library maybe, if she’s got a paper to finish. Otherwise, shopping. That girl loves Oxford Street more than anything.’

  ‘Thanks for your time, Miss...?’

  ‘Tate. Katrina Tate.’

  ‘If you see her, call me please.’ Ayala handed over one of his cards.

  Chapter 51: Against Time

  Tuesday April 22nd – 12:04

  Morton answered his phone on the first ring. He barely had time to read the caller’s name on the screen and register that the call was from Ayala before picking up.

  ‘Morton. Tell me you’ve got her.’ Morton tapped his fingers against his steering wheel impatiently, and gazed out at the main road. The backlog from the accident hadn’t been cleared but those involved had been rushed off in stretchers. The garage owner had demanded Morton move or risk his car being clamped. Morton had fended him off with an explanation that he was a policeman, but Morton could still see the man working twenty feet away, glancing up at him occasionally as if to suggest Morton needed to get a move on.

  ‘No dice. She’s supposed to be in class today, and didn’t show up. Her classmates have no idea where she is.’

  ‘You and Mayberry get back to office, and I’ll go check neither of them are at Edgecombe Lodge. I wouldn’t put it past either of them to start stripping anything of value to pawn.’

  ‘Err, I already sent Mayberry back. He’s a liability.’

  ‘Ayala, now isn’t the time, but we’re going to have words about this later. I asked you to take Mayberry with you and you disobeyed me. Go get me something, now. I’ve got another call coming in.’ Morton hung up, and took the waiting call.

  ‘Morton.’

  ‘It’s Stuart Purcell. I’ve got DS Mayberry with me. He said you’re trying to get hold of Brianna Jackson and Gabriella Curzon.’

  ‘Where are they?’

  ‘Hold your horses. I’ve not got a location, yet. We checked their phones. Both off. We checked Facebook for any updates; all profiles are private, if they even have profiles. I’ve got one lead–’

  ‘Damn it, Stuart. Just tell me what the lead is!’’

  ‘Brianna has charges on her primary credit card, the one we flagged, from Buds ’N’ Blooms. It’s a florist in–’

  ‘Southwark. I walked past it ten minutes ago. When was the charge?’

  ‘An hour ago.’

  ‘Right.’ Morton hung up, jumped out of his car and slammed the door shut, then ran back towards the high street. Moving the car would have to wait.

  The florist was a small family-owned business with a peeling lilac façade, and buckets of cheap seasonal flowers out on the pavement. Dozens of cheerful yellow daffodils were advertised at ten for a pound. Morton burst through the door, and a bell announced his arrival.

  ‘Hello! Welcome to Buds ’N’ Bloom–’

  ‘DCI Morton. You served a customer this morning, Brianna Jackson. Brunette, twenty-eight, a little on the short side.’

  ‘Oh no, dear,’ the florist said. ‘I’ve not seen Miss Jackson since last week.’

  ‘You charged her this morning.’

  ‘Well, yes, after I delivered the flowers.’

  ‘Where to?’

  ‘Adelaide Church.’

  Morton’s eyes narrowed. ‘Funeral flowers?’

  ‘Yes, dear.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  Morton dashed back out of the florists’ and towards his car, where an unwelcome sight awaited him. The garage owner had made good on his promise and immobilised Morton’s beloved Audi.

  ‘What the hell have you done?’ Morton roared. ‘Take it off, now!’

  ‘After you pay me my seventy-five pounds,’ the garage owner said. He pointed at a sign on the wall warning against parking on his forecourt.

  Morton stomped towards the garage owner. ‘Take it off, or you’re under arrest for obstruction of justice,’ he said in a much-too-calm voice.

  The garage owner sized Morton up, and then caved. ‘It’ll take ten minutes.’

  ‘Damn it, I don’t have ten minutes. Is that thing road legal?’ Morton pointed to an Aston Martin. It was an older-model V8 Vantage in navy blue, which an apprentice was polishing up. The keys were in the ignition.

  ‘Detective, don’t even think–’

  It was too late. Morton had already run towards the Aston Martin. He jumped in, revved up the engine, shouted ‘I’ll bring it back!’, and slammed his foot down. Before the garage owner could stop him, Morton was gone.

  Morton grinned like a schoolboy as he tore away. So this is what being a criminal feels like. He pulled his phone from his pocket, tapped the speakerphone button and chucked it onto the passenger-side seat.

  ‘Call Ayala,’ he said clearly.

  ‘Calling Malala,’ his phone replied.

  ‘God damn it.’ He snatched the phone back up, used his left thumb to hang up and voice-dialled again. On the second try, it worked and Ayala’s phone began to ring.

  ‘Boss, you got her?’

  ‘Ayala. Today’s the funeral. Call ahead, see if they’re both there. Adelaide Church. Meet me there.’ Morton hung up, and floored it through a red light. In for a penny, in for a pound.

  Chapter 52: Burning

  Tuesday April 22nd – 13:15

  Adelaide Church in Richmond was a hair shy of twelve miles from where Morton commandeered the Aston Martin. It was one of the best drives of his life. The road seemed to glide by underneath him, and the engine purred contentedly as it ate up the asphalt. It’s a shame Sarah would kill me if I bought one.

  The miles flew by, and Morton was soon parked outside Adelaide Church. It was a beautiful old church, Lutheran by denomination, with stained glass windows that seemed to radiate in the sunlight.

  Morton walked into the foyer, where an elderly lady was shuffling about singing to herself cheerfully. The door into the main church was closed.

  ‘Excuse me, ma’am. Is the DeLange funeral in progress?’ Morton asked. He hadn’t spotted many cars outside.

  ‘Oh no, dearie, that finished a good fifteen, twenty minutes ago, I’d say.’

  ‘Damn!’

  ‘Watch your language, young man.’

  Young man? ‘I’m sorry. Do you know if they were headed to a wake or a burial?’

  ‘The crematorium, I think.’

  Morton sighed. ‘Where is it?’ he asked, expecting to have to zigzag back across London. At least I’ll get to drive the Aston Martin a little further.

  ‘The other side of the road.’ She pointed out the door towards a hedgerow beyond which Morton could just about make out the outline of a low, squat building.

  For the third time that day, Morton ran.

  ***

  The committal ceremony was well underway by the time that Morton arrived at the crematorium. He paused to text Ayala a quick update, and then headed inside. The second he stepped through the front door, he could hear sobbing coming from the main hall. At first, he thought nothing of it.

  Then he heard screaming.

  Morton sprinted across the foyer, through the double doors leading towards the source of the scream, and stopped dead in his tracks just inside the main hall.

  The scene before Morton was surreal. Ellis’ coffin lay atop a metal retort in the far left corner, waiting to be loaded into the incinerator.

  In the opposite corner, a pastor, presumab
ly from Adelaide Church, cowered in the corner with his knees tucked up under his chin, and his eyes cast downwards. Halfway down the hall, which was filled with a hundred chairs either side of a central aisle, Kallum Fielder sat frozen in a chair, bewitched by the scene unfolding in front of him.

  Gabriella and Brianna were at the front of the room. Gabriella, the taller of the two half-sisters, held her left arm around Brianna’s chest, with her fist clenched. In her right hand, she held a knife to Brianna’s throat.

  ‘Stop right there. Don’t move any closer,’ Gabriella said.

  Morton held up his hands, and paused a few feet along the aisle. Behind him the double doors swung on their hinges, making a slight swooshing sound until they too came to a complete stop.

  ‘Gabriella, don’t do this,’ Morton said. He kept his voice calm and quiet.

  ‘Don’t do this? It’s not what I’ve done. It’s what she’s done,’ Gabriella said. She held the knife closer still to Brianna’s throat. The slightest slip and it would be over.

  ‘What did she do?’ Morton asked.

  ‘Tell him. Tell him what you did, Brianna. Tell him!’

  Brianna gulped, and a tear ran down her face. ‘She’s crazy. Help me!’

  Morton looked between them. ‘Why don’t we sit down and talk about this?’

  ‘You wish. I’m not leaving until this wretch admits what she did. She killed Ellis!’ Gabriella yelled. Her hand trembled with rage as she spoke, and the knife, already dangerously close to Brianna's jugular vein, quivered.

  ‘She killed Ellis,’ Morton repeated, in an even tone. ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘I know I didn’t kill her. And I know you’re after me. Katrina called the church to say you were looking for me. The silly mare thought you wanted me for drugs. But I know better. You think that I killed Eli. Don’t deny it. I know you barged into my lecture hall.’

  Morton silently cursed Ayala. He had taken a sledgehammer to crack a nut, and made clear their intentions.

  ‘That doesn’t answer the question. Why Brianna?’

  ‘It wasn’t me. Kal was gone. Paddy was with me. Alex was running around Richmond naked. That only leaves one person, doesn’t it? And you said it yourself, that house is three million reasons to kill.’

  ‘Where is Paddy?’ Morton asked. He edged forward ever so slightly.

  ‘Jail, as you well know. The Governor wouldn’t let him come today even though he’s getting out this week,’ Gabriella said. She eyed Morton warily as he shuffled forwards. ‘Stop moving! Sit down. That seat to your left.’

  Morton sat down slowly. As he did so, he pressed his hand against his jacket, feeling for the button that would activate voice dialling. ‘Call Ayala,’ he whispered, and hoped that his phone would, for once, obey him.

  Thankfully, Gabriella didn’t hear him whispering, and continued to rant. ‘My sister’s funeral, and you – you denied her friend the chance to attend!’

  ‘I’m sorry Paddy couldn’t make it. I didn’t stop him. It was me that brokered his deal for immunity. I’m sorry the paperwork took so long. At least Kal is out on bail.’ Morton looked over to the former footballer. Kal faced forward, but he wasn’t paying attention to what was going on. Instead he stared off into space, glassy-eyed and dissociative.

  Gabriella saw Morton looking. ‘Don’t mind him. He’s been like that for a while now.’

  ‘He needs medical attention.’

  ‘Nonsense. There’s nothing wrong with him. God knows why men always fall to pieces in a crisis.’ Gabriella looked over at the pastor, who rocked back and forth with his knees tucked up beneath his chin.

  ‘Gabriella, you don’t want to do this. You haven’t hurt anyone yet. If you didn’t kill Ellis then let everyone go, and I’ll ask the prosecutor to be lenient.’

  Gabriella looked uncertain for a moment. She glanced over towards Kal, and then towards the pastor, but when she turned back to Morton, her face had hardened into an impassive mask. ‘Do you think I’m stupid?’ she sneered. ‘If I let them go, you’ll arrest me and then it’s over. I want you to listen to the truth.’

  ‘You’re an intelligent woman so I won’t lie to you. You had to know that being arrested was a forgone conclusion the moment you took a hostage. You know this isn’t going to end with you walking out of here a free woman. Let everyone go, and I promise I’ll listen to what you have to say.’

  ‘No. She’s going nowhere.’ Gabriella jerked her head towards her hostage.

  ‘Then let the others go.’

  ‘I need them. I need witnesses.’

  ‘You’ve got the best witness in London right here. I’m going nowhere. Show some good faith. Let Kal and the pastor go, please,’ Morton said.

  Gabriella looked between them for a moment. ‘One. I’ll let one go now. If I let Pastor Roberts go then you’ll hear me out, won’t you?’

  It’s a start, Morton thought. He nodded, and Gabriella called over to Pastor Roberts. ‘You can go, Pastor.’ The pastor looked up, then over to Morton for reassurance. When Morton nodded, the pastor leapt to his feet and then bolted from the room.

  ‘Thank you,’ Morton said. ‘Tell me what happened.’

  ‘She set me up.’

  ‘Brianna set you up? How?’ Morton wanted to check to see if his phone call had gone through, but dared not be seen looking.

  ‘The money,’ Gabriella said.

  ‘That wasn’t a set-up. That was a test,’ Brianna said. Her eyes were closed, and she took short sharp breaths.

  ‘Oh, yes, it was. It was a set-up. You made me take it.’

  Morton realised what they meant. ‘You two took the money from Kal’s wallet.’

  ‘Damn right we did. She told me it was to test if they would argue. We knew what he was planning. We had to know if he trusted her. He didn’t,’ Gabriella said.

  Morton leant forward, and glanced inside his jacket. He could see a faint glow emanating from his breast pocket. Yes! The call went through. ‘That’s what Kal and Ellis argued about on the night she was murdered.’

  ‘Yes, and that’s why this bitch wanted me to take it. To make it look like that great oaf killed her.’

  ‘But you said Kal was planning something. What was it?’ Morton said.

  ‘He was going to propose. Brianna found a diamond ring in his pocket. He left his jacket on the back of a chair in the kitchen. She looked through it for coke, and found the box, didn't you Brianna?’ The knife trembled dangerously again, and Brianna whimpered.

  ‘Then what happened?’

  ‘He caught us looking at it, got angry. Then he begged us not to spoil the surprise. He was going to propose that night.’

  Everything clicked into place for Morton. If Kal had married Ellis then he would have become her next of kin. Brianna would never have been able to inherit at all. It wasn’t planned. The murder weapon must have already been in the house that night.

  ‘It’s not true! None of it is.’ Brianna cried. ‘Can’t you see, she’s manipulating you? She wants you to think I did it so you won’t arrest her. She killed Ellis, and now she’s going to kill me.’

  ‘Quiet!’ Gabriella hissed. ‘One more lie, and I’ll slit your throat. It’s no less than you deserve. Ask him. Ask Kal if he was going to propose.’

  ‘OK,’ Morton said. ‘I’m going to get up now. I’m going to go over to Kal. That’s OK, right? He’s still fifteen feet from you. I promise I won’t do anything else.’

  Gabriella nodded her assent, and Morton stood, then edged slowly down the aisle. He sat down opposite Kal.

  ‘Kallum. Kallum. Mr Fielder, are you OK?’ Morton asked.

  Kal turned slowly at the sound of his name. His cheeks were stained with tears, and his eyes were bloodshot. He clenched an order of service in his left hand, and a tissue in his right.

  ‘Are you OK?’ Morton repeated. He wanted to reach out, to assure Kal that everything was going to be OK. But it would have been a lie.

  Kal nodded, and released his grip o
n the tissue. It fell to the floor almost in slow motion before landing at his feet. Morton watched as Kal slowly reached into his pocket.

  ‘Hey! What are you doing?’ Gabriella demanded.

  Kal ignored her and produced a velvet ring box from his pocket. He held it out, palm up, to let Morton see. Morton leant across the aisle, and opened the lid without taking it from Kal.

  Inside was a platinum ring set with a blue diamond solitaire almost a quarter the size of Morton’s thumbnail. Morton gazed at it in awe, then snapped the box closed.

  Kal clutched at it, his fingers tightening around it as if afraid to let it go. He began to sob. Gone was the brash arrogant suspect Morton had first met on the set of Wake Up Britain! Kal had become a broken man, a shadow of his former self. There was no doubt in Morton’s mind that Kal would never have hurt Ellis.

  Morton heard the sound of an engine outside. His heart rose in his chest. He had to act fast.

  ‘Gabriella. I know you heard those engines. That will be the police. Let me help you. Put the knife down.’

  ‘No! Not until she admits what she did.’ Gabriella’s arm wavered as if her muscles were beginning to cramp from holding the knife for so long.

  ‘Brianna,’ Morton said. ‘Tell me why you went back that night.’

  ‘I... I went to apologise. For stealing the money. I felt bad about leaving them to argue over a set-up. I wanted to make things right.’

  ‘Liar!’ Gabby screamed. She pressed the knife in closer against Brianna’s jugular, breaking the epidermis but not yet drawing blood. A few millimetres further, and Brianna would bleed out before Morton could do anything.

  Brianna fell silent. Morton could see the terror in her eyes.

  Then they heard the megaphone.

  Chapter 53: Ayala in Charge

  Ayala arrived on site not long after Morton. He had his phone on loudspeaker so that Detective Mayberry and the six constables crowded around him in the car park could listen in to Morton’s one-sided phone call.