Devil in the Detail

by A. J. Cross

  ‘See that? It’s an Eames. You wouldn’t believe what I paid for it. Mike’s designs didn’t do it for me.’ She took another mouthful of brandy.

  ‘Why didn’t your husband and his brother get on?’ asked Judd.

  ‘What I actually said is that they didn’t have much in common.’ She shrugged. ‘Money is the answer. Isn’t it always, in families?’ She gave Watts an evaluative look. ‘I’m talking about my money. Whatever Brendan might have told you about his business, it’s my money which got him started. My money which bought all of this. My dad owned a very successful recycling business. When he died, I got everything. No sisters or brothers, you see.’ She grimaced. ‘Not like the Lawrence tribe.’

  She looked up at Watts. ‘Brendan’s got a good head for business, I’ll give him that. He’s pushy, doesn’t give anybody a chance to take liberties but’ – she inclined her head towards Watts, her tone conspiratorial – ‘times change, situations change. Cashflow is what finishes off a lot of businesses like his, or to be exact, a lack of it. Recycling is the business to be in now. It’s how I keep Brendan afloat.’

  ‘What about Molly Lawrence?’ asked Judd. She watched the face opposite harden.

  ‘What about her? Has somebody been talking?’ They waited. She shrugged. ‘If I describe my husband as an “alpha male”, you’ll know where I’m coming from. When Mike first introduced Molly to the family, I could see Brendan was taken with her. I can always tell, you see.’

  She turned to look at Watts, the robe sliding further. ‘Have you met her? She’s small and dark with these great, big, pansy eyes. I told him, “One more time, Brendan, just one more, and I phone Richard”. That’s all it takes, you see. Richard is my lawyer and whatever else Brendan is, he’s no fool, so that put an end to whatever he might have been up to. Or thinking of getting up to.’

  Judd asked, ‘Mrs Lawrence, are you saying that there was a relationship between your husband and Molly Lawrence?’

  Gemma Lawrence started laughing, tears flooding her eyes. Watts doubted the drink she was nursing was her first of the day. ‘That’s not what I’m saying! Molly was too into Mike to notice Brendan, and even if she had, she wouldn’t have been interested.’ She took more brandy on board. ‘He dresses well, my husband, but scratch the surface and he’s a yob and an idiot where women are concerned.’ She glanced at Judd. ‘Did he come on to you?’

  Judd said nothing.

  ‘If that’s a “no”, he must be slipping.’

  ‘Mrs Lawrence, what’s your understanding of what happened to your brother-in-law and his wife?’

  She stared at Judd. ‘What’s there to understand? It’s obvious. They were somewhere they shouldn’t have been. Some rundown, scruffy area, by all accounts, although what they were doing there …?’ She shrugged, took another mouthful of brandy. ‘I didn’t get on that well with them, but I’m sorry about what happened … and the baby, of course.’ Her lower lip quivered.

  Following a further ten minutes, during which Gemma Lawrence wept, told Watts about her dislike of her in-laws and her regret that she hadn’t had children, but nothing which moved the investigation on, they were back inside the BMW and in a line of slow traffic.

  ‘Takes all sorts, Judd.’

  ‘I think Mrs Gemma “with-a-G” Lawrence is keen on you, Sarge.’

  He shuddered. ‘Behave. What did you make of her and what she said?’

  ‘She’s confirmed that the two brothers had little in common. She comes across as a hard case and she’s no fool. Brendan Lawrence has an eye for women but he’s in no rush to lose what he’s got, so he toes the line.’

  ‘A cynical summation from somebody still on work experience.’

  She laughed – the first he’d heard from her in the last day or two. ‘It’s families, Sarge. People doing or going after what they want, while avoiding losing out to anybody else.’

  Watts stopped behind a dithering Fiat, craning his head to see what was slowing down the traffic three cars ahead. ‘If that’s how it works, I was lucky.’

  He glanced at her. She was staring out of the window. Given what he knew of her background, which wasn’t a lot, and none of it good, he decided that she probably knew more than he did about families and their goings-on. ‘What do you think about what she said about Brendan Lawrence having an eye for his sister-in-law, Molly?’

  ‘I believe it, if that’s what you’re asking. Sounds like Gemma landed like a ton of builders’ bricks on him because she wasn’t the first he’d used his eye on. That needs exploring directly with Molly, Sarge.’

  He shook his head. ‘I can’t see Will doing that with her in her current state, and right now his brief is specific: get an account from her of the attack that night.’

  ‘How about I leave it a while then talk to her?’

  ‘We haven’t got a while.’

  The nervous Fiat owner turned left. Watts picked up speed. ‘My picture of Brendan Lawrence, alpha male, is that he’s a main-chancer who drives his employees hard and gets what he wants without losing sleep over how.’ He drove on.

  ‘And he had no time for brother Mike.’

  TWENTY-TWO

  Tuesday 18 December. 2.30 p.m.

  Judd was typing up the visits to Brendan Lawrence and his wife. She finished, her eyes fixed on the lines of text, searching for errors before she emailed it upstairs, hearing the door open.

  ‘Hello, Chloe. You look busy.’

  She looked up at Julian. ‘Hi. Just finishing something.’

  ‘How about that coffee you offered me?’

  She hesitated, then grinned. ‘OK.’

  She sent the email, got up from the table, her foot striking one of its legs. Peripheral attention on him, her mind on coffee, she absently patted the table with a whispered, ‘Sorry,’ and headed for the kettle.

  ‘I don’t think I’ve ever heard someone apologize to furniture.’

  Reaching for the coffee jar, she looked back at him and saw that he was smiling. She gave the coffee her full attention. ‘I don’t know why I said it. It’s just a thing. From when I was little.’ She tensed, hearing him coming closer.

  ‘It’s OK. We all have quirky stuff.’

  She looked up at him then quickly away, feeling that his eyes were looking into her soul.

  ‘It just says to me that you were a kind kid. Maybe a little vulnerable.’

  She forced a laugh. ‘Thanks for the psychological opinion. How much do I owe you?’

  He came closer and reached for one of the filled mugs. ‘Just this.’

  The door opened and Watts came in, followed by Traynor. ‘When did you pull all of this together?’

  ‘Late last night,’ said Traynor. ‘It was too late to ring you.’

  ‘How sure are you?’

  ‘Come on, Bernard. How sure were you about the carjack-homicide approach?’

  ‘Ninety per cent, as it happens.’

  Watts went to the table, looked down at Colin Wright’s single-page statement, searched the words, getting nothing from it that they hadn’t already heard from Wright himself. He checked his watch. ‘Judd and I saw Brendan Lawrence and his wife earlier. There’s no love lost between the brothers, plus Brendan’s got an eye for other women which, according to his wife, occasionally wandered in Molly Lawrence’s direction.’

  Traynor looked up at him. ‘That’s interesting.’

  ‘I want verification of it from another source.’ He reached for his papers, seeing that Judd and Julian had already left. ‘Ready to share what you’ve said with the investigation?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Got some notes on your theory?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Impressive. I need notes for meetings.’

  The incident room fell silent as they came inside. Watts put down his papers. ‘What have we got on Huey Whyte?’

  One of the officers working the inner-city inquiries raised a hand. ‘I talked to his immediate neighbours. A couple of them confirmed seeing him in
their local bar on the night of the Lawrence shootings. That he was there from around nine p.m. to closing time. CCTV inside the bar bears it out.’

  Watts grunted. ‘So much for Whyte. No wonder he was so chipper during his interview.’ He looked around. ‘Anything else?’

  ‘An email from Jonah Budd’s probation officer.’ Miller pointed at her screen. ‘She’s done some checking. On the day of the Lawrence shootings, Budd was attending a Young Offenders’ course in Nottingham which started at four p.m. and finished at nine thirty.’

  ‘She’s got verification of his attendance?’

  ‘She’s following it up.’

  ‘Let me know as soon as you get her response.’ He looked around the packed room. ‘Anybody get anything on sightings of unfamiliar or out-of-place persons and/or vehicles?’

  Julian held up several sheets. ‘I’ve already got a hundred-plus responses from officers who started on it yesterday. I’ve analysed three quarters of them but so far there’s zero confirmation of anything of interest. I’ll continue with what I’ve got, plus those still to come. If there is anything which looks interesting, I’ll let you know.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  His eyes moved over them, picking up tiredness on most of the faces and disengagement from Jones. He had his back half-turned to Julian, who was sitting next to Judd. ‘The thinking behind that line of questioning was Will’s. The recovery of Molly Lawrence’s handbag plus valuables has strengthened his view that this investigation needs to reconsider motive.’ He paused, seeing heads turn, some of the facial expressions increasingly downbeat. ‘He’s now going to tell you why.’

  Traynor came and sat on the edge of a nearby table, looking directly at each of them.

  ‘The finding of the Lawrence valuables indicates that the shooting of Mr and Mrs Lawrence was not motivated by theft. The taking of their belongings was intended to confuse and conceal the true intent.’ He paused. ‘I think this gunman was well known to one if not both of the Lawrences.’

  The impact on the room was immediate. He waited for the tumult to settle. ‘Which means that the search for sightings of people and vehicles unfamiliar to the area round Forge Street and beyond remains very relevant. Whoever he is, he does not belong to the Bristol Road–Forge Street area, either as a resident or a worker. We need to look closer at the Lawrences’ family and friends, colleagues and associates of Molly and Mike Lawrence. As Detective Inspector Watts said at another briefing, a number of them have already been spoken to. What has been learned about Brendan Lawrence suggests he needs to be considered a person of interest.’ He glanced at Watts. ‘You’ll want to come in here?’

  Watts nodded. ‘I want intel to compile a list of names and contact details for all of the people Will has just mentioned. I’ll put together a rota of who goes where. It won’t be a case of talking just to the names on that list. It’s about talking to people they name, no matter how incidental they might seem.’

  Jones’ hand shot up. ‘It might help if we have an idea of the type of individual we’re looking for.’

  Watts looked to Traynor. ‘Will’s got a profile.’

  ‘It’s based on limited available indicators,’ said Traynor, ‘but it suggests that he’s a confident individual who’s comfortable managing and directing people, including those under duress. It also tells us what he isn’t: a young, urban offender. I would re-estimate his age range to be twenty-five to forty, probably the higher end. That profile fits a security guard who has already featured in the investigation. He fits the personality, attitude and age criteria I’ve described and he works and lives in the area. He’s a person of interest. He will be spoken to very soon.’

  Watts stood. ‘As already said, those of you who are out there talking to people in the extended area need to keep at it. Whoever this individual is, it’s highly likely he was in that inner-city area prior to the shootings, checking it out. I want to know ASAP if any of you get so much as a hint from anybody who remembers an individual or a vehicle that caught their attention for whatever reason.’

  ‘Sarge?’ Jones stood. ‘All we’ve got from the people Kumar and I spoke to is that they’re shocked at the attack on the Lawrences and fearful that some nutter is on the loose.’ He glanced quickly around the room, getting confirmatory nods along with dispirited looks. ‘Some of you will soon be talking to friends, colleagues and so on of the Lawrences,’ said Watts. ‘Judd and I will be doing some of it. I haven’t got time to feel tired or fed up. Neither have you.’

  He and Traynor exited from the room, Traynor on his phone. As he ended the call, Watts asked, ‘When are you seeing Molly Lawrence again?’

  ‘I’ve just agreed it for this afternoon.’

  They walked into Watts’ office. ‘How optimistic are you?’

  ‘Given the picture her mother just gave me, I’m not, but I’ll see how it goes.’

  Watts handed him the details of what they had from Gemma Lawrence. ‘I’ll leave you to phrase it, but if she’s up to it, ask her about her brother-in-law, Brendan.’ He frowned. ‘Where’s Judd got to?’

  ‘She was in the incident room just now.’

  ‘So I saw. If you get anything from Molly about Brendan Lawrence, phone me.’ He sat and looked at the sea of paper on the table. ‘You do know that Miller’s waiting for you to show up with your shorts over your trousers and the solution to this whole mess? She’s probably not the only one.’

  He looked up. Traynor was gazing at him with a look of utter incomprehension.

  ‘Forget it. I’m expecting our person of interest in ten minutes. If it produces anything, I’ll phone you.’

  Coming into the busy reception area, immediately seeing who he was looking for, Watts raised his hand and pointed to a small room nearby. The big man got up and followed him to it. ‘Thanks for coming in. Have a seat.’

  The chair creaked as Nigel settled himself on to it. ‘What’s this about?’

  ‘The shooting of two people, close to where you work.’

  Nigel shrugged, his gaze drifting away. ‘I already told you all I know.’

  Watts sat back, tapping his pen on his notebook, eyes fixed on Nigel’s face. ‘This game makes most of us good judges of people. Tell me what else happened.’

  Nigel shifted, causing more creaks. ‘Like I told you …’

  Watts sat forward. ‘I’ve been in this job more years than I like to count. It’s told me a lot about people and how they are, what they are, how they might respond to things that happen around them.’ He paused. ‘You said you heard two gunshots at around nine twenty or nine thirty that night. You’re a security operative. You know that area well. Know what I’d have done in your place, in that situation?’ He did a slow count to ten. ‘I’d have taken my dog and I’d have gone for a short walk, to see what I could see.’

  The small room was silent. Nigel eyed him, looked away, then back. ‘If you spotted me, you should have said.’

  ‘I didn’t. Now you’re going to tell me all about it.’

  Traynor brought the Aston Martin to a stop and looked at the house. What was waiting for him was a make-or-break situation. Molly Lawrence’s wellbeing was paramount and he would do nothing to jeopardize it, but if there was something related to the investigation which she hadn’t disclosed, he needed it. Today.

  Mrs Monroe opened the door to him. ‘Hello, Dr Traynor. I’m so glad you’re here. Please, come in.’

  ‘How is Molly?’

  She led him inside the warm kitchen full of the smell of baking. ‘She’s drying her hair. The good news is that she’s had her first shower since she came home. She won’t be long. The downside is she’s now refusing to leave the house. I’ve told her she can’t go on like this. Her response was that she doesn’t want to go on. I rang the hospital yesterday without telling her. Now she’s discharged, they’re suggesting she goes to her doctor to get help.’ She looked at him, indicating a large sponge cake. He shook his head. She brought coffee to the table, sat opposite him. ‘
Tell me what to do, Dr Traynor.’

  Recalling his own feelings of helplessness after his wife’s death, his inability to do anything constructive for months, he felt quick sympathy. ‘Your being here has to be a great support. Yes, she needs help. She also needs time.’ The door opened. Traynor stood.

  ‘Hello, Will.’

  ‘Hello, Mrs Lawrence.’

  Her mother went to the cupboard for another cup. ‘Sit down, Molly, and I’ll pour you some coffee. How about a small slice—?’

  ‘Nothing for me.’ She looked at Traynor. ‘I’m ready.’

  He followed her to the sitting room, waited as she sat down. He sat opposite. ‘How are you?’

  She pushed her hands through her hair. ‘I want to say that I’m OK. I’m not. For the first time, I’m seeing the world how it actually is: full of risk and violence and people out to do others harm.’ She looked up at him. ‘Would you believe, we’re getting calls from newspapers offering obscene amounts of money for me to talk to them? It’s madness.’

  None of what she was saying was unexpected. Last time he was here, he had recognized her omission of the shots fired at her husband and herself, plus much else, as a form of denial. It seemed to him that that denial was beginning to erode. Now, he had something to tell her, before she learned it from the media.

  ‘I have some news. The police have recovered your handbag.’ Her head came up, her eyes widening with shock.

  ‘What?’

  ‘It was in a lake at Westley Country Park. Do you know it?’

  She shook her head.

  He waited for her next question. It didn’t come. ‘Most of your property was still inside it, though one of your earrings is missing.’

  ‘I don’t understand. Why would somebody steal from us then … throw it all away?’

  He looked down at the questions he had brought with him. ‘How do you feel, knowing that, Molly?’

  ‘Confused.’